#but ya i screamed the entirety of it and it was so FUN

[diorkyeom]

THE @diorkyeom / @fairyhaos AO3 FIC REC LIST: PART 2

masterlist. part one. part two. part three.

part two of all the ao3 fics that i've read for seventeen which i've loved, kudosed, and proceeded to download so i'll always have with me. part one was kinda long so i thought it would be better if i just made a 2nd post instead of adding on to it ^^

(list is in order of authors!)

Of Milkshakes, Onesies and Miniature Roses - coupdetart

soonhoon, uni au, oneshot

soonyoung likes small and cute things. jihoon is small and cute. and that's it, that's the entirety of this adorable fic. pls this fic had me grinning so hard omg everything is literally soooo adorable and jihoon is so tsundere but you can already tell that he's so fond of soonyoung and his antics and they're just very very sweet

Know Ya Boo - jeosheo

meanie, non-idols, fluff, getting together, oneshot

jeosheo and lunahui are two of theeeee best meanie writers that ive like. ever seen. this fic made me laugh and it made me internally cry and it's soooo so lovely and funny and domestic and honest to god. the entire attraction of this ship is the way they realise their feelings and this fic does it soo well

Through The Wall - kaiteki

soonhoon, apartment neighbors, chaptered (but short)

hnnnngggh never ever ever EVER gonna get tired of people characterising soonhoon's relationship not as an antagonistic, forever-enemies one but as one of mutual respect and muted adoration. pls a neighbours to lovers thats actually simply Adorable is hard to come by but this is sooo good

right-handed normativity - kyeomizt

meanie, canon au, oneshot

dudeeeee pls it's just sooo soft and domestic and funny and so so so them. the way they act like a couple almost instinctively, like it's coded into their dna to just love each other like that???? peak meanie things actually.

hell yeah, hyung! - orphan_account

jeongcheol, canon au, coming out, oneshot

idk jeongcheol has never been My Thing but the way that jeonghan is characterised? with his clear head and clear thoughts and you can clearly see his entire thought process as he goes through things... wow. it's really good. i also love how much time he takes to think things through and really find out what he's feeling. vv nice fic tbh, that's all :]

Rollercoaster - orphan_account

soonhoon, non-idols au, fake dating, oneshot

read the summary, screamed internally. then began reading the fic and screamed internally even more. pls the characterisation???? the pining???? the suppressed feelings and fAKE DATING?????? absolute gold i swear pls pls read this it's so cute

Found In Translation - naegahosh

verkwan, fluff, light angst, twoshot

holy shiiiiittttttt the seungkwan characterisation is ON POINT and i LOVE when people manage to get his melodrama and also his softness down and this fic has it SO GOOD. the way hansol is just so so so gentle and caring with seungkwan and it's so OBVIOUS that he's already so in love with him from the start :(((

can't sleep (without your smile) - pocketpastel

seoksoo + verkwan, snow white au, sleeping beauty au, chaptered

i love cute little fairytale-twist aus!!!! ive (kinda) written one of my own too hehe and it's always just soooo fun to do. and read as well! i love the seoksoo dynamic and also verkwan with their little one-sided rivals to lovers??? gorgeous. very very sweet.

my love only amounts to this - shiningshua

seoksoo, canon au, soulmates, oneshot

i think i said this before but i rarely read seoksoo bc honestly. their dynamic and characterisation is something that is rlly hard to get right but this is sooo soft. joshua loving it when seokmin calls him "shua hyung"? their softness? the way they were in love with each other the entire time? the epitome of the seoksoo dynamic actually.

Hit Different - thanku4urlove

verkwan, est. relationship, canon au, oneshot

bro. bro buff vernon is soooo brainrot worthy actually and honestly i just feel so blessed that there's an ENTIRE FIC centered around it. with verkwan too like????? best thing in the entire world. started giggling internally at the ending like OH MYGODHFUDHS it's soooo heart-flutteringly good.

wonwoo & his very non-imaginary boyfriend - wonderscape

meanie, established relationship, oneshot

honestly. peak meanie behaviour is wonwoo having a hot-as-fuck boyfriend and no one believing that they're actually dating until they see mingyu in person. the 96 liner dynamic is so silly and so funny to me because they're all just so annoying and goofy in their own way and i love the way it's portrayed in this fic too

#diorkyeom's fic recs #i went through a soonhoon hyperfixation the other day so. a lot of these are soonhoon hahah #and verkwan is an ongoing fixation so most of the rest of these are verkwan :'D #seventeen #svt #svt fic #verkwan #meanie #minwon #seoksoo #soonhoon #jeongcheol #svt x reader #seungcheol #scoups #jeonghan #ao3 #joshua #joshua hong #junhui #woozi #jihoon #hoshi #soonyoung #wonwoo #dokyeom #seokmin #mingyu #minghao #seungkwan

[gaybananabread]

CONGRATS ON 300! YEEHAW

Could I get some apples, oranges, and bananas for TADC? lee!Jax, ler!Ragatha please!

Love your content, always have, always will!

*Hughug*

Fruit(s): Apples, Oranges, Bananas

EEEEEEGH Thank youuu! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) These TADC requests are so fun, love these insane scronkles! Haven’t explored the circus peeps before this event; it’s been a lot of fun! Hugs returned tenfold! (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Jax

Ler: Ragatha

Summary: Jax leaves Ragatha a “special” present in her room, trying to annoy the rag doll. He succeeds, though it backfires in a way he never could’ve expected. All he has to do is apologize…but where’s the fun in that?

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Bug pizza.

Honestly, Ragatha didn’t even know where he was getting the materials for his “pranks” anymore. Somehow, the jerk had managed to get several bug species, pizza ingredients, and more centipedes than she had ever seen in one place before. Her shriek could be heard across the entirety of the grounds, Caine quickly rushing over to dispose of the wriggling abomination.

Jax, meanwhile, was in his room, laughing his tail off as he heard the scream. Ragatha was, by far, his favorite character to mess with. Sure, it was easy to tease Gangle, and Kinger was occasionally fun to trick, but Ragatha always got so flustered and passive-aggressively mad at him; he loved it.

His laughter died down, though, as loud, angry footsteps approached his door. Eugh boi... Jax quickly sat up, trying to force the giddy smile back into his usual smirk. It took everything he had not to cackle at the look on her face. She was furious.

“Jax. Why the *squawk* was there a freaking bug pizza in my room?!” The bunny man couldn’t contain himself anymore; he burst into loud laughter, falling back onto his bed. Ragatha just watched, her anger slowly growing. That sorry, smug little purple bi- Whoooo. Deep breaths, Ragatha.

“Ohoho, wow, that was- Oooh man. Lookit’ ya, Dollface! Ehehe…he…” The look of amusement slowly got more nervous as he saw her look change. It wasn’t pure anger anymore; there was a hint of something else, something he knew he’d seen before. 

Ragatha stepped into his room, mock-cracking her knuckles. She didn’t exactly have real bones to do it, but the gesture got the message across. “I’ll give you something to laugh about, cotton tail…” 

Okay, time to run! Jax sprang up from his bed, bolting past Ragatha and running for his life. The doll was almost right behind him, his long legs the only thing keeping him ahead. 

Ducking and weaving between objects and furniture, Jax continued his mad dash through the tent. He passed Zooble, who just rolled their eyes and muttered a few onomatopoeia-censored words. That was the least of his concerns; the pissy redhead on his tail was a much bigger threat.

Ragatha could hear the occasional giggle escape him as he ran, either from anticipation or the fact she couldn’t catch him. She took it both ways, running just a bit faster in her attempts to catch him.

With the way he was running, he might’ve gotten away. That is, if he hadn’t tripped over a random plastic ball on the floor. Stupid Caine and his stupid ball pit adventure…

The doll girl pounced, quickly straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. Jax normally would’ve fought for his life, but the giddy adrenaline took over his mind, flooding his thoughts with things he’d never say out loud. Very…embarrassing-lee silly thoughts.

“I'll give you one last chance, cotton tail. Apologize and I'll spare you.” Ragatha smirked as she said it, making a claw and wiggling her fingers above his stomach.

Jax’s ears pinned back, his stomach reflexively sucking in at the sight of her clawed hand. He could have just apologized…but where was the fun in that? The guy had an image to protect, and he wasn’t about to surrender to her without a fight.

Seeing his determination to be a stubborn jerk, she touched the claw down on his stomach, digging in with all five wiggly fingers. “Fine, you asked for it!” Ragatha sounded extremely smug; he was honestly a bit impressed. Well, he would’ve been impressed, had he not been giggling like a little kid.

“Youhuhu lihitle- gehehet ohoff!” He tugged and tugged on his arms, trying to free himself. Her strength wasn’t a huge surprise; that was hardly the first time she’d attacked him. Still, could you blame him for trying?

Chuckling, she started to let her hand wander, moving up to his ribs. Ragatha knew exactly where to go to get him really laughing, but she wanted to give him a chance to apologize first. “I’ll get off when you say sorry.”

His ribs were about as bad as his stomach; they got him giggling, but not much other than that. Jax knew she was dragging it out. All he had to do was outlast her. “S-sohohorry you cahan’t tahahake a johohoke!”

“Ohoho, you’re getting it now, flatfoot.” Tired of his mouth, she went for his hips, drilling her plush thumbs into the divots. Jax squealed, bucking his hips and arching his back as she targeted his worst spot. “I’m done being nice. Now, Jax, apologize.”

Jax thrashed wildly in her grip, trying desperately to get away from the horribly ticklish sensation. “DOHOLL- crahap, RahagATHAHAHA!” She took small, five second pauses in between bouts of squeezing, not wanting to completely overwhelm him. He was her friend, regardless of his mouthy behavior. 

“Sorry Jax, but you’re literally asking for it. Just apologize and I’ll leave you alone.” Deciding to take things a step further, she released his hands, still drilling into his hip with the other. Ragatha took her newly-open hand up to his ears, scritching the bases of them. 

The rabbit was in stitches, unable to get a coherent word out through his laughter. The duality of his favorite most annoying spot versus his death spot was killer; he was torn between melting at the ear scritches and jumping out of his skin from the hip squeezes. While his hands were free, he didn’t have enough space in his mind to even think about using them.

His big feet thumped against the floor, his ears twitching as he frantically tried to escape. Raghatha only teased him, not backing down. “Aww, what’s wrong, Thumper? Does it tickle?” Ugh, those teases…

Finally, with mirthful tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he caved. Jax screeched through his frantic laughter, trying to get her to stop. “FIHIHINE! IHIHI’LL DO IHIHIT, JUHUST- STAHAHAP!”

Ragatha stopped tormenting his hips, moving both hands up to gently scratch his ears. While he did ask her to stop, she knew Jax loved the affection on his ears. “So, what do you have to say to me?”

He whined through his giggles, melting at the touch. Jax’s giggling got softer and airier, as if he were floating on cloud nine. If it were possible, he would’ve absorbed into the floor and hid until she got tired of looking for him. “Uhuhum…I-Ihi’m sohorry abohout the buhuhugs.”

She smiled, booping where his nose would’ve been for extra flair. “There you go, ya goof. Was that so hard?” The groan she got in return was priceless. 

Chuckling, she stood, leaving him on the floor in a giggly puddle. He’d be fine; besides, she wasn’t planning on sticking around while he regained his energy. Jax’s idea of payback was often much crueler than her own.

The tickle-drunk bunny laid there, trying to regain his composure. Ugh… Jax rubbed his ears, sitting up as his nerves buzzed with leftover sensations. He knew one thing for sure:

Ragatha was so dead when he found her…

#kasey's fruit shop #tadc tickle #lee!jax #ler!ragatha #ticklish!jax #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #tadc #the amazing digital circus tickle #tadc jax #tadc ragatha

[dinomite2]

Fem Agent 3 x Female Octarian Reader (platonic)

Again I asked @sodapoppss for a request and here we are again so enjoy 👍

Also fun fact! if you have the physical copy of splatoon 2 and or 3 behind the logo when you open the case is a special box art which you can flip around at any time

This all takes place after the octo expansion when 8 defeated tarter

● It all started right when after 3 defeated DJ Octavio and all of the Octarians were taken out of their mind control along with yourself

● everything felt so ... free to you being released from mind control and all that but beyond all of that you unexpectedly got lost and ended up in deep sea metro

● 3 was going on a expedition in the deep sea metro after the whole fiasco with Agent 8 and commander Tartar and saving the entirety of inkopolis square and all of its people

● 3 was just looking around hallways and entrances and until that she found you and nearly splatting you because she thought that you were a sanitized octoling but she eventually took you up to the surface and took you in and now you live with her!

● she eventually had to show you the square and what it stores it had what weapons and how things work around here

● now she's a agent who saved a whole entire city from a major power problem and fought a giant robot ridden by old Octarian leader so if you want to she'll train you! By making you do chores.....

"ok so you want to be a Rough and tough agent like me do ya?"

You nodded with eagerness

3 smiled softly

"Ok so I all of my dirty laundry washed and folded by 12:30 am do I make myself clear?"

"Wha-"

She threw you a large pileful of nasty laundry on your hands and the smell of was so stinky your eyes were watering and you held your breath

*Mmhmm!"

● now Don't get her wrong she is training you but in the of way that it will strangely help you in the long run kind of training

● please at some point remind her to take a shower she doesn't focus on her own personal hygiene because she an agent and just cause she pretty much forgets about it daily and if she doesn't make her

● and also she keeps a good watch on you because since you are still kinda new to the surface and i would be dumb of her to not watch you do stuff that is EXTREMELY dumb

" Hey Y/n have you seen the TV remote anywhe- ARE YOU EATING METAL" 3 screamed out

"Yeah 4 said I needed to increase my iron " you said still biting on pure metal

...

"Be right back " she said irritated with gritted teeth and walking backwards as she closed the door

she lectured 4 for 3 hours after that

Now overall she will take care of you but must take of her yourself it's a kind of win win for both of ya.

And Done! Im sorry it's not long as my other ones but I hope you all can enjoy again stay cool stay safe and most importantly be on the nice side Dudes 👍

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splat3 #agent 3 #splatoon x reader

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB s3 ep 14

Only one more to go after this, we ready!? (no, pls help)

Yes Hunter, how IS Echo gonna get off the ship?

Oh I see we’re just gonna let him wing it and do it on his own?

Like don’t get me wrong I have full faith in Echo I just don’t like how Hunter is so focused on Omega he doesn’t even try to find a way to help out Echo

He also doesn’t listen to Crosshair’s remark about the Jungle being dangerous

Love how Omega is like “oh base on high security alert? Multiple explosions? it’s my brothers!!”

I swear Rampart and is constant bitching is so tiring

HAHAHAHAHHAH THE BITCH SCREAMS LIKE A CHILD

Gaaaahh Cross talking about his first time on Tantiss

His hand tremor acting up

Poor baby I love him give him a hug

“…but Omega didn’t leave me behind when she could have. I owe her.”

Bro just say you love your baby sisters like it’s not that big a deal we already knew

The utter fucking relief I felt when Echo made it off that ship unharmed

Jesus, I am so scared that we might,,,

Okay I don’t wanna jinx it so I’m just gonna say “scared that the writers pull another Tech”

Aaaaaaand Rampart’s bitchiness got them a) attacked by a giant beast and b) discovered by imperial troops

I hate him so much

Emerie not only recognising Echo but immediately volunteering to help?

She’s growing on me tbh

Is Omega gonna free the Zillo? To get out? Like as a distraction?

Idk that seems kinda dangerous girly

wait wtf that’s it???

That was already 20mins?

I wasn’t ready for the end there I though we were gonna get more😪

Tbh, I think it felt so short because they had to fit three storylines into twenty minutes. I really wish they were allowed 40 minute episodes, then they could’ve really done a deep dive into all three moving parts of this episode. Like at this point it’s not the writers or show runners fault, it’s just that they probably didn’t get the budget to make their episodes that long, which rlly sucks but like,,, ya can’t be mad.

But! I honestly still don’t understand how ALL OF THIS is gonna get wrapped up in 1 more episode. Like how? Genuinely, how?

On the one hand, that makes me worry that the last episode is gonna be super rushed and feel unfinished or whatever but on the other hand it gives me hope that we’re gonna get another show. Because we still don’t know how Gregor, Rex and Wolffe ended up on Silos (?) alone, what happened to their rebellion, where the entirety of the batch went, what the hell Echo Base on Hoth is all about, who tf CX-2 is and Hemlock and Rampart are still alive also?? Which seems like an oversight.

AND all the clones still need to be busted out of Tantiss and relocated and why am I getting the feeling that Tantiss is just gonna blow up with everyone still there and that’s the reason why Rex gives up SHIT FUCK DAMNNIT

Anyway, point being!! This can’t end well any way you slice it. Lovely.

I will say that all in all I did like this episode!! Rampart getting panic attack after panic attack was rlly fun, we got a heart to heart between Wrecker and Crosshair (brief as it was), Echo again proofed why he is an ARC Trooper and why, after the apocalypse and the explosion of the galaxy he will still be standing, and Omega showed us once again that she is a far cry from that scared kid in season 1 and has instead turned into a sharp, competent, mini soldier (lets not talk about the fact that she’s essentially been turned into a child soldier out of pure necessity)

Anyway!! Good stuff, I am terrified of the finale!! Hope y’all enjoyed!! Thanks for reading!! See you next week when I try not to have a breakdown!!

#imma go to work now with the worst period cramps I’ve had since last month #it’s gonna be… a day🥲 #anyway!! #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb rampart #tbb hemlock #tbb emerie #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw #tbb #sw tbb #tbb s3 #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoilers

[lilblueprint]

Bejeweled

And I miss you

But I miss sparkling

You enjoy one last shimmering night before you tether yourself to him.

This turned out a bit goofier than I intended it to be, but I think it's a cute way of showing reader let loose with her girlfriends. Bejeweled just screams bachelorette party for me, hope you guys enjoy this piece of slightly crack fluff :) Also, happy Halloween!

The engagement diamond is barely back on your finger for two minutes when you get bombarded with calls from your friends–a few in particular. Even though your recently set wedding day is still weeks away, they insist on taking you out on a bachelorette bash. 

What can you do except say yes?

-

The moment you step onto the street, a chorus of squeals greet you. Your face lights up as you see your lady squad lounging about one of Bruce Wayne’s limousines. You wave excitedly as you start towards them. 

Selina is sitting on the hood, black dress blending into her background. Her smile, however, is as blinding as ever. 

Stephanie and Cass are huddled together at the front of the group, the former bouncing on her feet and the latter gazing at you fondly. The door closest to them swings open to reveal a waving Barbara, her glasses are off tonight and you think she looks beautiful. 

“Get over here, girl!” Steph finally explodes, running over to catch you up in a hug. You laugh as she lifts you into the air like you weigh nothing, giggling breathlessly when you’re back on solid ground. 

“You look gorgeous,” you compliment her, then turn to the rest of the group. “You all do.”

Selina slides off the hood to greet you, green eyes sparkling. 

“You better get in the car, honey. Someone’s been dying to meet you,” she says, lips quirking mischievously. You gasp as you realize who it might be. 

“You didn’t–Harley!” You yelp joyfully, you’d been itching to meet the lady anti-hero ever since Selina had mentioned her. Sure enough, a pair of pink-and-blue pigtails swing your way from the driver’s seat. 

“Hey, sugar! Nice to meet ya!” Harley Quinn squeals, and your heart flutters madly when you meet her fun-loving gaze. 

“I can’t believe you’re all going to take me out tonight,” you tease as you get in beside Barbara. “It’s gonna be one hell of a send-off with you ladies.”

“Oh, you can count on it.” Steph’s grin is positively wicked as she straps herself in on your other side, Cass joining her. “Step on it, Harls!”

“You got it!”

-

The first place they take you is one of the biggest boutiques in town, Selina leading you all into the shop. Surprise, surprise–it’s been rented out just for you tonight. 

“Bruce is gonna feel tonight on his credit card, huh?” You chuckle as you run a hand over a blue silk dress. 

“You know it, kitten.” Selina smirks. “Nothing he can’t earn back, though. So don’t pay any attention to the budget tonight, sweetheart. It’s on us–with a little help from Batsy’s black card.”

This rouses laughter from everyone, and hands fly to grab gowns off the racks. A few photoshoots later, you’re all decked out in shimmering garments that fall elegantly around you like colorful auras. What’s more, the entire group is covered from head to toe in jewelry, enough to make you shine bright as little suns. The doorbell tinkles over your heads as you file out the door and back into the limo. 

“Where to next? We didn’t spend too long in there,” you say breathlessly. 

“Mhm–you’ll see in just a bit!” Steph titters. Harley snickered from the passenger seat up front, she’d switched off driving duty with Selina.

“I’ll give ya a hint, sugar–if you were this excited to meet little ol’ me, you’ll go absolutely bonkers soon!”

-

Harley was right. 

Your mouth drops open as you crane your neck to see the entirety of the behemoth of a yacht before you. 

“You guys didn’t tell me that you rented out the freaking Titanic!” you squawked, your hair brushing your bare shoulders as you shook your head back and forth in wonder. 

“Well, better be careful with that rock, then. You wouldn’t want to cause this one to sink too!” Barbara joked, referring to your ring as you helped her up the ramp. You grin at her tasteful reference, finally making it to the deck. 

What you don’t expect is the throngs of eyes swinging your way as you stand there with your girls. 

Then you realize that you know some of these people. Recognition spreads in your mind like wildfire as your gaze jumps from person to person. Your friends must’ve pulled a few strings, because you can pick out Wonder Woman and Black Canary from the crowd almost instantly. 

“Oh my god,” you murmur faintly. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Cass looks mildly alarmed, but calms as she reads your body language. You’re glad for her patience, because you would not have appreciated a trip to the ER because your friends mistook your excitement for illness. 

Just then, Wonder Woman catches you staring at her. Smiling, she says something to Black Canary, and the blonde hero winks at you. You swoon, and Steph makes a show of catching you in her arms. 

“Listen,” you say dreamily, “I know I’m getting married to Jason, but if Dinah Lance asks me out tonight, I just might have to call off the wedding.” 

“Agreed,” Steph sighs, shooting a playful look at Cass. The ravenette shrugs good-naturedly, and it makes you all smile. 

“Let’s go mingle! We’re not going out with anyone if we jus’ keep standing here,'' Harley sings, and with overlapping agreements, you melt into the crowds. It’s a wild experience, flitting through the throngs of heroines in the most ridiculously flashy heels you’ve ever chosen in your life. You’re still reeling after meeting your two favorite Justice League members that you almost miss the clinking of Selina’s glass. 

“May I have your attention?” She purrs, and heads turn. “Thank you all for coming out, I know our bride-to-be really enjoyed herself tonight!” Playful catcalls ring out, and you blush graciously as you remember Dinah’s lips on your cheek. You could’ve died happy right then and there, but you were glad you hadn’t. This had been such an incredible night, and your heart was about ready to burst with love for your friends. 

“It’s almost midnight–let’s send our little bride off!” Barbara calls out. Cheers go up, champagne bottles pop, and suddenly fireworks burst into life overhead as the yacht cruises along Gotham’s glittering coast. You can feel tears of joy sliding down your cheeks, and you let out a happy sob as arms wrap around you. 

“Thank you all so much,” you exclaim, wiping at your face as you bring your arms around your five amazing friends. “This was the best night a girl could’ve asked for.”

“You know it, sugar!” 

“And next time, we’ll be taking you out for your baby shower!” Steph finishes, and you all laugh.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #fluff #lowkey crack #jason todd fic #canon divergence #lmao bye

[lunaremy]

favorite thing about them

he's really fun and high energy, and when you look at it closely he's really just like a little son. He's just kind of weird and it's adorable!

least favorite thing about them

For some odd reason, I don't have one? His character is surprisingly strong

favorite line

either that one time during planet technopolis where he threatened to beat magnet (presumably like 4 years younger than him at the most) up or the fact that 30% of the time you kill him he screams so fucking loud and it's hillarious if not scary as heck at first because it just sounds like they blew the voice actor up in real life

brOTP

literal bros as in brothers again, but Red and White get along really well and as a writer it's adorable to see a less harsh side of Red whenever he's looking up to White. As a duo they're really funny and work surprisingly well. Also with him and Magnet, but the friendship part comes from them being "rivals" if anything, but i'm not too sure how to describe it other than it's fascinating. On another note, regarding that "writer" part, the same philosophy applies to Red and Aqua so it's fun whenever they get along. Especially since it can be seen that Red is acting like a good sibling, in a manner similar to White

OTP

Can't really see one.

nOTP

self explanatory

random headcanon

He and Pink watch the same TV shows, but have vastly different philosophies about what's going on in the shows, so it just sounds like they're both talking about nonsense if one were to observe them having watch parties together. And then Pretty gets involved (intended to watch more a serious ya show with Pink but then got wrapped up in fucking yugioh or whatever) and the whole thing sounds like they're arguing but they're actually having loads of fun

unpopular opinion

idk............ idk. Sometimes i think he should just be allowed to blow shit up i bet if white had sicced him on buggler as soon as he was born the entirety of r1 would've never happened

song i associate with them

something that came to mind was a weird tune on my phone where it was a hard-rock fast paced guitar solo, but it was shittily overlayed with the "BUNS KETCHUP PICKLE CHEESE" song from teen titans go. that's him when he cook burger with famil. It's not on my laptop so i'll show you later.

favorite picture of them

weird son that loves to eat tree bark (affectionate)

#bomberman #super bomberman r #red bomber

[critleemadness-blog]

Loathsome Chaos God

You know, being a god is so great. You can basically do what you want; create anything you want, have undeniable power, order your followers to attack a village and tell them to be indoctrinated or face extreme prejudice.

Being a god is great…But wow it can be freaking boring… and damn well annoying.

"Ugh, nothing to do except hear everyone complain." Leshy muttered. Recently, his siblings were complaining of his incompetency on leading his cult. Yes there were a lot of hiccups here and there he did, but what could you do, he's a growing god, "No fun at all."

As he lay there in his garden, a sinister thought came into his mind. It began to fester to the point where he couldn't ignore it.

He is the God of Chaos after all. Why not cause some chaos for his dear siblings? It was only fair to get them back.

He chuckled to himself as black goop appeared underneath him before he descended in it.

/// ///

Hidden away inside her temple in Anura, Heket was taking special care of her bountiful mushrooms. All so beautiful, delectable and most definitely not going to be used in any other way.

Heket chuckled to herself on that last part, knowing damn well what she was going to use them for.

When she was about to harvest a ripe mushroom, she began to notice something amiss. For one, she smells a faint smoke coming from the entrance of her hidden garden. And for two, she can definitely hear her followers screaming in what must have been terror.

Thinking it's some lowly village attacking her cult… again, she makes her way outside and bellows out, "Foolish mortals, who dares disturb… my…"

Her words died down as she watched the entirety of Anura was burning, her followers running around in complete terror.

Quickly recovering her stupor, she ran out the temple as she yelled to her panicking followers, "What the hell is happening?!"

Meanwhile while she was distracted, the grassy god of chaos sneaked right into the temple, all the while nonchalantly whistling some tune. After a few minutes he sneaked right back out with white mushrooms in his arms.

One down, three to go.

/// ///

"Arondight, such a lovely name. Fine edge, phenomenal craftsmanship. You are simply amazing." Something tapped on his shoulder and turning around, he sees a green lance, "Oh, but how could I forget about you, Guandao? Such luxurious green tint. No emerald nor jade could compete with your sweet splendor." Another blade was plucked from the collection as the tentacled monster made a gasp, "Here's the lady of the hour, Gungnir Valhalla! What's ya cooking, good looking?"

"Kallamar?"

"AAAAUGH!" Kallamar made a girly scream, pointing the many weapons towards the perpetrator… who was his sister who looked like she was absolutely traumatized by what she saw. Caught in the with his tentacles full, he puts away his plethora of sharp objects in the dresser, "Heket, when did you get here, why are you here, how much did you see?! Have you not heard of privacy?!"

Heket looked at her brother weirdly before shaking her head, "No time to explain. Need your help, come with me."

"But-"

"Do you want me to tell our brethren about your disgusting fetish?"

Scared to tempt fate, the two disappear to return to Heket's domain. The moment they did, Leshy came out of the closet with a disgusted look on him.

"...so damn weird…" Leshy said out loud, trying to shake away the icky thoughts on what his brother was doing to the blades. Not wanting to further question his own sanity, he pulls out a bucket full of paint and a brush.

/// ///

It was like Leshy was served with a silver platter as when he arrived in Narinder's cloudy domain, Narinder himself was sleeping! There was no one there, not even those two meddlesome brats he likes to look over.

Leshy doesn't know why ol' Nari is asleep, gods don't really have the need for it. Maybe he was doing it for the pleasure of it, who knows.

What Leshy does know is that he's gonna pull the 'Prank him, John', or whatever his followers tell each other when someone goes to sleep too early. He doesn't know what they were doing exactly, but it sounds like it involved some slapping and a lot of screaming.

Ignoring that weird tidbit, Leshy grabs a spare pair of scissors Kallamar had and a bottle of ink (which he isn't going to question where his brother even got the liquid from), and he goes to work on his brother.

/// ///

Shamura was exceptionally confused. Not only do they sense their siblings being stressed over something, but they had a small vision where something was about to happen to them in due time into their temple's library.

Arriving at their location containing tomes from many pompous writers and avid readers, Shamura looked around and checked every nook and cranny for whatever it was. Strangely though, it seems like there was nothing out in the ordinary, just their followers reading and what they assumed was some newly made candles.

What the spider lord didn't know was that their cultist readers were completely out of it, barely heed on the written literature. When Shamura noticed one of them staring at the candle rather intently, they said to them, "Are you ill, young one?"

The cultist said nothing as they continued to stare at the candle. It was then that Shamura noticed the scent grew more powerful. Looking closely at them, they saw there was a white mushroom hidden in the candle wax that was burning brightly.

They finally realize, as the world begins to grow colorful, that it was already too late.

/// ///

"I'm going to be in so much trouble~." Leshy laughed as he returned to his domain, knowing full well his sibling will be knocking on his door in about a few moments… Now that he realizes that, it would be mighty funny if he did not appear before them…

"Odysseys?" Leshy guessed, passing by his follower who was cleaning his temple.

"It's Asmodeus, my lord." The small shrub corrected, though from the way Leshy looked at him tells the follower doesn't seem to care.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Anyways, my siblings are about to come in about… oh I don't know, thirty seconds or less, and they expect an explanation from me."

"If I could inquire, for what exactly?"

Leshy pays the cult members head, "Oh don't worry about that with your small, mortal brain of yours. Just tell them I'm taking a short trip to… somewhere for a couple of months."

"...Wait, what?"

"Side note, specifically tell Heket I'm not sorry and it tasted good, ta ta!" With a tip of his hat, a black portal opens underneath him.

"Taste what go-" Before he could finish, the god disappears, leaving nothing of trace of him. The cult member looked confused for a few seconds, but sighs, "Well okay then. Wonder why he left in such a ru-"

"WHERE IS THAT GREEN PIECE OF SHRUBBY SHIT!" A roar shook the temple, nearly spooking the member's soul out of him.

The doors of the temple were literally thrown from its hinges and nearly smashing Asmodeus in the process. What surprised the little follower was his lords coming in and, even more surprising, the state they were.

Coming to the forefront of the group stomping her way towards him was Heket, and boy; not only was she covered in soot but she looked absolutely pissed. Following not too far from her was a hooded giant, who Asmodeus guessed was Narinder from the tail coming out of him. The last two confused him the most with Kallamar crying horrendously while being dragged by Shamura who's… slouching and having this 'out of this world' look to them.

All and all, they look like a mess.

Asmodeus kneels to the lords The Old Faith, "Wh-what can I do you for, my lords?"

"Where is he?" The frog god croaked.

"Wh-who?" Asmodeus idiotically whimpered.

"Leshy, is. He. Here?" The hooded god said, venom clearly coming out with each word.

The lowly follower gulped, "H-he just le-left, my lords."

"Us damn it." Narinder cursed under his breath before turning to the follower, "Where is he now?"

"He di-didn't specify, my lords. Wh-what did Lord Leshy do?"

Right then and there did he wish he wasn't a curious creature as the two wrathful gods narrowed their eyes on him. The first to respond was Heket who was brimming with hate, "He took ALL of my special mushrooms."

The hooded Narinder raised a brow on the frog, "So you're not mad that he basically burned down half of your domain?" He paused for a moment, "Wait, how do you know he just took the mushrooms if he could just burn it as well?"

"Don't get this wrong brother, I'm livid he started a fire, but my mushrooms are my priority here." She turns her eyes towards Shamura with utter jealousy, "However it seems it's already been used."

Narinder took a moment to wonder where his sister's mushrooms went before looking at Shamura… who was climbing onto the walls while building a hammock with his webs, "Ah, no wonder why they're higher than your foul ego."

Heket's eyes twitched as she glared at the godcat. Before Narinder could react, his sister grabbed his hood and pulled it down.

Instantly, the follower wanted to vomit out his breakfast onto the floor. Narinder's excellent and beautiful fur was shaved off, leaving behind an ugly, pink creature for everyone to see. To add insult to the injury, there was even a certain genitalia drawn long onto his cheeks and forehead.

"At least I don't look like some cheap escort from an alley." Heket insulted as a snide grin appeared on her face.

"Sister, keep spouting like that and I will rip your throat out." Narinder growled, pulling out his claws to prove his point.

While the two were arguing with each other like children, Asmodeus looked at the sobbing squid and asked, "Wh-what happened to you, Lord Kallamar?"

The god stopped his bawling for just a moment, "He-he took my… damsels away. My wonderful collection of legendary blades, it's all gone!"

Shamura, swaying on his webbed hammock without a care for the world, added, "There was also the word 'Nerd' written all over his room and temple when returned."

This made Kallamar more prissy as he began to bawl again, "I'm not a nerd damn you!"

"I swear to us, if Kallamar doesn't shut up in about five seconds, I will make a reason for him to cry harder!" Narinder shouted.

Before Asmodeus could properly piece everything together, Heket grabs him by the throat and lifts him up in the air.

"Let me repeat myself once more. Worm." Her voice was completely full of malice, "Where is Leshy?"

"I-I don't know, I swear! All he said was that something tastes good!"

The temple grew silent from his final words. In those few seconds, Asmodeus begins to realize he shouldn't have said that.

"I'm going to eat your heart." Heket said plainly.

"...what…" Asmodeus whimpered, dread in his voice. Black goop appeared beneath the gods, making them all descend in it. Asmodeus struggled to free himself from the most definitely angry frog, "NO, NO WAIT! DON'T KILL THE MESSENGER! DON'T KI-"

He couldn't scream another plea as she, her captive, and two brothers disappeared to whatever they were taking him.

Now, only Shamura is there in Leshy's empty temple. Though alone, he senses something having their gaze on them. Shamura turns towards the window pane, there they see a green crown sitting on top of a bushy. It waves at the spider and like a good drugged up spider god they are, waves back, thinking nothing less of the strangeness of it.

"Hehe, they are going to kill me."

#cult of the lamb #leshy #shamura #narinder #kallamar #heket

[translationandbetrayals]

My relationship with Junji Ito's work.

I'll be honest with ya'. I haven't read that many manga books. But what I have read the most I think must be Junji Ito stories. And well, Berserk, but not in its entirety. Anyway, I just like horror in general, and Ito's imagination is one of a kind in that manner. What I love the most about him is that he's actually very sweet and mannered. There even are memes about him being so gentle and creating such horrific stories, next to legendary Hayao Miyazaki, who in real life is someone very stressful, and who actually doesn't deal that well with others (and his creations are some of the sweetest anime out there).

In the summer of 2019 (I think), I went with some friends to Quilimarí, a little town next to Pichidangui, a little north from me, where we stayed at some friend's granny's house. We were just 4 guys. There, something really funny happened: we were posing for a pic next to a cliff, in the border of an abandoned bridge (we were young), and my cellphone happened to fall off the cliff, taking its last photo downhills, and being destroyed by the impact. Then, I was left uncommunicated from the rest of the world for a while...

All I had was my ethernet-less tablet, where I had downloaded a bunch of mangas (which to these days I have not still read), some of which were Junji Ito's "Tomie" series. They are not my favorite from the author, but the experience of being in such an isolated place (literally in the middle of the desert, next to the sea), with some friends at an old house, reaading these chapters, was actually beatiful.

"Tomie" revolves around a girl who is capable of manipulating men around her thanks to her beauty (mostly her long, black fringed hair, her iconic mole in her cheek and her white skin), which she uses for destroying them, and/or feeding her ego. I remember loving a lot his artwork, which represent dark, roaming ideas depicted through the black and white pages with an actual brilliance from the mangaka.

I don't remember if it was after or before that, but I began to buy some manga books with his short horror stories, some of which have been translated (pun intended) to anime media, at Netflix. I remember having read some of this stories and actually having a lot of fun. Some of them had such an interesting artwork, like the classical snail-tongue girl one, or the one with the girl trapped in a family full of people with really greasy skin...

In general, the stories I have liked the most have female protagonists in them, which can say a lot about the artist and myself I think, though in general feminity is vastly represented in horror media (there even are some video essays I've watched about this in youtube). There was this exception, where the protagonist was a boy who had to watch his town being emprisoned by some kind of mist, from wich a really sexy looking guy came from it, and called the girls from the town and then devoured them, I think (don't remember that well, just how hot that guy was jjj).

So, as you can see, in Junji Ito stories you can see a lot about the anxieties of Japan's young people, focusing on small towns and their dark beliefs, joined with the sexual repression which creates literal monsters at the fog...

And THEN, you have the most sweet and funniest of them all: a short story about Junji Ito's struggle to cohabite his home with his two cats and his girlfriend. It has one of the most iconic panels of his artwork (the one with the cat biting his fingers and him screaming). I gave this one to a close friend of mine for her birthday (she loves cat as much as I do jj).

I was beginning to read the classical, all-iconic "Uzumaki", a tale about a town cursed by the spiral... Everything in it becomes a spiral, even people. It has this panel with the girl and the eye being absorbed by a hole in her head. It's dark, heavy, and brutal. I've had this book for years now, but I hadn't opened and read it. Tonight would be one hell of a night to do it. But I gotta finish my last projects for the semester. When it ends, I know I'll finally finish it.

By Jorge Leiva

pd: They'll finally make an anime about Uzumaki !! So cool !!!

#Anime #Manga #personalstory #essay #submission

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

ok im literally the nicest person ever so i'll only give u two albums to rank : red and fearless (with their vaults),, aka the longest albums she has,, have fun😘💕

ellie i am literally at my wit’s end.

it’s FEARLESS

forever & always - the petty way she says and i don’t feel welcome anymore… this whole song is just chefs kiss and i have a soft spot for it okay (the piano version HITSSS DIFFERENTTT)

tell me why - it’s kinda crazy that i’m putting this song above all the popular ones but i love it so much. the violin in the intro is just so funny to me idk why, it makes me want to burst out laughing. and taylor is just so angsty here?? this one here. my fav (you could write a book on how to ruin someone’s perfect DAAAaaaAAaaAAaaAyy)

the way i loved you - SCREAMING AND FIGHTING AND KISSING IN THE RAIN she is so distressed i adore it. i also associate this song with my old crush but whatever because i want to feel like this again

you belong with me - SOOO ICONIC i scream-sang this with my best friend and it’s so nostalgic. it’s super pick me but every girl had a pick me phase at one point so it’s okay.

love story - a classic. i should get proposed to this song methinks.

jump then fall - idk why but this song hits different guys 🥲

fifteen - I LOVE THIS SONG. i’m so jealous of abigail if my friend wrote a song about my heartbreak i would be over the moon.

fearless - “this song is about the perfect first date i’ve never had.” same girl. i actually cringe whenever i listen to this song because it reminds me of this guy i used to like so. sorry tay.

the best day - once again, taylor swift reminds me that i have daddy issues. i remember on my first listen of this album i couldn’t get through this song and had to skip it… widiwidiekckekncndcjc teared up on this relisten! so!

mr. perfectly fine - ok tbh i have some nostalgia from this song bc last year they were playing this song in a barbershop in taiwan and i was so surprised ??

the other side of the door - back to december’s bratty little sister. jk i actually love the bridge but how many little black dresses does girly have!!

come in with the rain - oooh i love the “talk to… talk to…” lyrics they’re so yummy satisfying (ellie i’m tiredddddd)

that’s when - this song is sweet. every song is sweet but this is different. twosongsleft

superstar - cresswell vibes! is this song about joe jonas

you all over me - ok ngl. the graffiti metaphor was pretty cringe

untouchable - guys. how is this album worse than debut

you’re not sorry - go off i guess!

white horse - taylor, i’m sorry but. this is getting repetitive. why are you always so fucking heartbroken

we were happy - FEARLESS IS MY LEAST FAVORITE ALBUM THIS IS SO BLAND IM BAWLING

don’t you - this song sounds like every song which sounds like every other song on this album the moment this song ends is the moment i forget everything about it

bye bye baby - was joe jonas really that good of a boyfriend. did she have to release this song. did i listen to it in its entirety. who’s to say. i am so ready for red

today was a fairytale - in my honest opinion. this vault song did not need to be released

change - it’s fine. a standard older sister song. she def wrote this after reading a ya novel. not sure how i feel about her christian era but whatever. hallelujah!

breathe - taylor. girly. let’s have a talk for a second: please have one song on this album that doesn’t sound like every other song on this album. okay?

hey stephen - very basic. nothing really stood out to me yk? (should’ve been replaced by mr perfectly fine tbh)

burning RED

begin again - I HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT FOR THIS SONG. LIVE FOR YOURSELF. WRITE NEW STORIES. LOOK AT THE FUTURE. YOUR HURT DOES NOT DEFINE YOU!!!!

all too well (10 minute version) - THE SHORT FILM BROKE MEEE

all too well - OUCHH watch her grammys performance it is so emotional

the last time - YESSSS MORALLY COMPLICATED GRAY AREAS MY BESTIEEEE

red - LOSING HIM WAS BLUE LIKE ID NEVER KNOWN MISSING HIM WAS DARK GRAY ALL ALONE FORGETTING HIM WAS LIKE TRYING TO KNOW SOMEBODY YOUVE NEVER METT

holy ground - i love healing. i love getting over it. i love moving on.

treacherous - FORBIDDEN LOVE!!!!

i almost do - THIS HURTS SO MUCH THIS IS JUST THE 1 IN A DIFFERENT FONT

the moment i knew - this song is genuinely so heartbreaking knowing the details of taylor’s twenty first birthday… fuck you j*ke

the lucky one - yk what her vocals are kinda funky on this one but whatever

sad beautiful tragic - at first i was going to rank it lower but then i heard the bridge and 🤭

the very first time - this is such a cute song i cant wait to listen to it when i fall in love

nothing new - THE LUCKY ONE VIBES !!

state of grace - ok idk if it’s just me but this kinda sounds like a modern day christian worship song? in all seriousness i am obsessed with this song. very movie soundtrack esque.

better man - ooh good soup. i love how she kinda has flashbacks in this song like in all too well.

starlight - really adorable!! i love the dreamy vintage aesthetic and the guitar. could totally see a grandma at some retirement home recounting her glory days.

come back… be here - she’s written better yearning songs. this is whatever

run - what is ed doing here!!!

everything has changed - i’m not a big fan of eddie but he wasn’t bad in this. plus the joker and the queen is such an iconic music video.

i knew you were trouble - so dramatic and for what!!! she slayed

forever winter - this is literally winlet from scarlets pov ???

girl at home - she really is a girl’s girl 🫶

we are never getting back together - it sounds too similar to 22 for me.

22 - not one of her best hits but it still slaps

babe - mid.

message in a bottle - nothing about this stood out to me. not my favorite.

stay stay stay - ew. barf. i hate it.

i bet you think about me - the worst taylor swift song yet. why is there a cacophony of harmonica in the chorus.

#if i was less lazy it would’ve taken less time but alas #HERE YOU ARE !! i’m exhausted #ts ranking #ellie tag

[draculasbane]

for character ask, how about chrollo and/ or that ffxiv guy, Elidibus(?)

ooo lowkey wasnt expecting any LOL but thank ya!

Chrollo 🕷

First impression: I remember esp when i first got into hxh as a teen being like that guy is MEEEE and its stuck since

Impression now: Literally the same i love him sm, he's my fave from hxh

Favorite moment: ik its everyone's fave but the requiem scene got me hooked on him, like it just like stayed in my brain perminantly after that, another one is when he's speaking to killua and gon in the rain, like i love how ominous he looks in that scene. And ofc recently w the lil childhood arc we got for the phantom troupe recently, it was so cute seeing a time when chrollo was like rly happy amongst the troupe and how fascinating their whole dynamic is as a group.

Idea for a story: uhhh hm i honestly cant think of one for him???

Unpopular opinion: ik how that fandom is when it comes to the phantom troupe so i always keep my opinions to my damn self LMFAO

Favorite relationship: ehh idk tbh i used to ship him w a bunch of ppl but I'm p neutral now, i just. Zone in on him now (i have other faves in this series trust me)

Favorite headcanon: hmm ik its def not confirmed but i was one of the ppl who headcannoned that oito was related to him, i also headcanon his tattoo being on his back like a big one.

for Elidibus (oh boy)⛎

First impression: (MIND YOU i got into xiv as a teen in school and I didn't rly care abt the characters in xiv cos i was just playing for fun then besides like Estinien) I didn't rly like him/ didn't pay him much mind until like stb and shb.

Impression now: I love him so much like he's genuinely one of my fave characters in ff anyways, thanks to 5.3 that was a rly emotional day LOL. But uh??? he's def the only ffxiv character I've drawn the most besides my own wols. Pandaemonium is just making the brainrot worse oTL

Favorite moment: hmmm I rly loved just the entirety of his parts in 5.3 (also getting to hear his voice i love it) but the one that hit hardest for me was when he reached out in that one cutscene and the og wol was in it, i screamed LOL I'm a big square soft ff lore nerd so i was jumping for sure hehe. Uhh also in Pandaemonium with the famous 'say my name' part like gods i wish that was voiced i wish it was.

Idea for a story: Eh,,, I've written a lot of stories abt him and my wol ;v; but I haven't written any lately cos I've been kind of estranged w ff even tho i basically log in everyday lol. I did have a rly big one that had to do with gods & the convocation but I'm to uncomfortable to share any of my writing w other ppl ;w;

Unpopular opinion: uhh hm, ik its not unpopular but i hate when ppl act like he's a child b/c he's short and youthful looking compared to Emet and Lahabrea like.. as someone who isn't even 5'0 its like uhhh k does that make me a 10 y/o or smth like have you HEARD him talk????

Favorite relationship: uhh big big fan of him and Erichthonios together! They work and i love how Themis is just a lil wierdo and Erich is just babie, they're just. very endearing IMO. (idk if i can put my own wol & azem in this but yeah also ship them w him too)

Favorite headcanon: eh idk I think if it was a modern au he'd have tattoos, black lipstick and piercings and shit esp w snake motifs *shrugging*, def would be goth but also themis just gives like cinnamoroll aesthetic cutesy sort of vibes to me so LOL i think its cos he just reminds me of him (i still have depicted him goth and or grunge tho b/4 his zodiark era).

#long post #sorry i talk too much #i love these two tho :'))) big fan of them #ppl who have seen my art of elidibus know how i headcanon him tho

[charlieisacastle]

1, 2, 20, and 23 for the song asks if thats ok <3333

hiiiiii thank u for ur ask :D im sky btw nice to meet ya <3

1. A song that you’ve only recently discovered?

my friend made me a playlist and i love this one so much (i love them all but yknow fjdknd)

2. A song that’s an old favourite?

💚💚💚

20. A song with a lyric or a verse that you want to scream out?

all of the entirety of jubilee line. i want to sing it in a square before i leave my city and country forever but unfortunately i dont hv a guitar

23. A song from your childhood?

i was learning how to play this song when i was a teen

THIS WAS SO FUN OMG :D

thank u for ur ask again 💓

please send me song asks these r fuuun

#charlie.mp3 #charlie.cc #i-never-really-gave-up-on-you

[rrxnjun]

from here ;

hmm i haven't really listened to dynamite and tbt i don't really want to bc butter was v disappointing djkfhgf i had only been in book fandoms since the beginning bc i got a yt/gmail acc only after i turned 12. i gave western music a ‘serious’ listen from then and after that i got into the wild place that is k-pop. ngl i don’t regret it bc the insanity >>> but oml there was a time when i used to read like 2/3 books in a week and now it’s regressed to like 1 in 6 months i genuinely feel bad for not being able to make the time to read 😭😭 (are we counting fanfiction tho hmmm). it was fun reading all those ya dystopian fiction with crazy amts of angst lol. are you into any specific book/author these days?

omg do you play the flute ?? and noooo sticker is nuts but I really like roadtrip from the album it’s so pretty as a song dkfjgd

FDSDGH so i’m pretty sure yangyang said the same ab cat food so bye bye #bar and renjun soulmate agenda hihi #bar and yangyang childhood rivals to complicated relationship with messy feelings (enemies ?? ) bc you’re both grown up now but he’s still a p(r)etty, overthinking idiot [affectionate] to friends of weird sort to smth more wink wink??

YESSS GIVE EXO A TRY their group music is so good literally all of them are bops i can’t stress enough on how good they are 🤧 omg i love their solo stuff too kyungsoo’s solo songs literally have me shedding tears haven’t still recovered from empathy. love shot ikfjgd it's one of those songs which makes loving exo so damn easy it’s the song which got me into them, that and overdose <3 and the choreo🧎🏾‍♀️love how we all collectively went batshit crazy over love shot oh gods i absolutely loved watching other idols trying that iconic love shot move the feeling of unitedly obsessing over them is unparalleled. here’s the exo playlist hope you like it omg had to use up all of my self control from adding entire discographies. 

I LOVE BAEKHYUN’S VOICE even when the man’s screaming which is like always lol <3 that compilation video of byun baekhyun screaming in youtube my beloved. cry for love is beautiful and un village was the first baekhyun solo i listened to so it’s special <3

the worst part is how superm won’t be active in the next few years bc of the enlistments we’re losing god tiered music makers to the war </3 kjdgf ALL OF THEIR VIDEOS ARE HILARIOUS YESS those vids where they quiz each other is sm chaos lmaoo. jfgsdf have you watched this video where they react to their as we wish scenarios?? sheesh that amt of clowning and slandering is >>> ohhh fave superm song hmm hard to choose but i’ll go w dangerous woman (ten’s ‘what’s wrong with you part’ is just too cute) wish you were here, infinity and tiger inside.   

ALSO LOVED THE PARX PLAYLIST haven’t listened to it fully tho but for now my faves are easy to hate and i felt younger when we met omg i love most of the songs from fandom <33

and oml tysm i really needed to see that 😭 i’m literally so scared bc lord it’s my last year in school and my last year as a minor ahhhhh 🤧 stem is extremely hard and puts me through sm pain <3. the only reason i’m sticking w it is bc i like learning it <3 getting the opportunity to study what you like is actually such a rare thing + almost the entirety of my country’s population is obsessed w getting their kids major in stem subjects (bc of the asian stereotypes surrounding those fields) but we don’t have that many good unis so the competition is really tiring </3

p.s. i haven’t really used tiktok so idk 💀 and the yangyang brainrot is doing a little too bc of your fic 😵 feeling sm things after reading i’m not angry anymore (well, sometimes i am) bc yangyang's character <33 need a few weeks to recover from that tyvm 

oof i get you w butter it was so disappointing🤧🤧but oh well. everyone has different taste🤷‍♀️ i dont really get solo armies but i guess im not the one to judge.

i get you with book fandoms!!! i wasnt in many book fandoms, since i didnt really know they existed 💀💀 but i am a massive bookworm! i too used to read like 3 books a week once and now im happy if i do 1 every three months😭 but im busier now and also have other hobbies, so i guess that's why i dont read as much anymore! what are some of your favorite books? 🥰 im a big fan of john green books (dont judge. i copy his writing style /j) and j.d. sallinger! i love me some good YA and dystopian books hhh. im currently reading this crime book i stole from my grandma but im too lazy to look up the english name 😭😭😭 are you reading anything atm?

SJSJSJ i dont play the recorder 😭 i mean,, i have it at home and i can play when i look up the simplified version of notes with the drawings,,, like the sheet music they do for elementary school children 💀💀 i knew how to play the titanic song lmaoo i play the guitar tho! do you play any instruments?

your yangyang childhood rivals to complicated relationship with messy feelings (enemies??) bc you're both grown up now but he's still a p(r)etty overthinking idiot [affectionate] to friends of some sort to smth more wink wink is so specific i might just take some inspo from this wink wink

OVERDOSE >>>>>>> I FUCKING LOOOVE THAT SONG@!!! also i listened to the playlist and found out that i knew more than half of the songs you added 😭😭 i loved the ones that were new to me tho!!!! espeCIALLY going crazy! i think that one was my fav out of the new ones! i might just need you to help me stan them or something bc the playlist slAPS

dont remind me of superm military hiatus when i miss them the most :(( also no i havent seen these!!! gotta catch up sjsjsn

FANDOM IS MY FAV PARX ALBUM!! its very dear to my heart!! also our fav songs match🥺 i felt younger when we met is probably my most played song of this year smh 🤧

oh so youre 17?? enjoy it i romanticize that age so much i feel like the last time when i was truly happy was when i was 17 💀 but no trust me its all gonna be good! i know it seems scary but as your self proclaimed older sister figure, i promise its less difficult than it seems and you'll do great. you can always come to me and vent whenever things get hard! i am glad you are fortunate enough to study what you want to, its truly a privilage some of us tend to overlook

p.s. the yy brainrot is still going in me as well i listened to miracle today on repeat and i swear his parts make me feel a different type of way😭 also make sure to tell me more abt your thoughts and feelings on that fic if you want to!

#💌ask #ni 🌱

[badcountryofficial]

Anyway I screamed the Entirety of The Real Will Wood on my way home from work and the highlight was probably yelling "I'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT'S LI-I-I-I-I-IKE WHAT IT'S LIKE TO F U C K YOU" at the top of my lungs w the windows down

#i'll never know 😔 i'll never know! 😭 i'll never knooooow! 😖 #i'll never know what it's LIIIIIIIIIIIKE WHAT IT'S LIKE TO FUCK YOU. OH LOOOOOOOORD!!!! #so good #but ya i screamed the entirety of it and it was so FUN

[robinofgothamcity]

scenario: you start seeing Jon which leads to the two of you having to hide it from your family and especially Damian.

pairing: jon kent ( superboy ) x fem! reader

note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / can you tell my kent family hyperfixation hasn't left yet? i swear it's becoming an issue lmaooo but this might actually be the longest fic i've written for this blog.

you talked with your friends who you had snuck into the gala with. Rachel had begrudgingly agreed to come to meanwhile Cass and Steph were the only other ones who agreed to come on their own accord.

"Damian, your only friend is here," Dick said, earning a kick from his younger brother before getting up and leaving you and Raven alone. you knew it was a rare occasion that she even decided to show up so you didn't want to leave her alone. "we probably won't see my brother for the rest of the night. whenever his friend comes, it's like everyone becomes a background character. for him being my adopted 'twin' brother, I have yet to meet this friend."

Raven laughed as you saw the wine that the couple on the dance left on your table drunkenly. the bottle was little more than half-filled and you gave one quick look to Raven before pouring the wine into both of your glasses and discarding it right away.

"to not having fun for the rest of the night," you giggled as the two of you chugged the wine down in a mere few seconds, "drier than I thought it would be but it beats having to pay for it," Raven muttered as you agreed to sneak another bottle from the bartender so you wouldn't have to pay for it. even with your dad paying for all your necessities, the drinks at his galas were far too expensive for you to even willingly pay for them yourself. the only reason why he even paid for all your expenses was because you agreed to skip out on college to help run some parts of Wayne Enterprises with your brother.

another reason why you couldn't exactly go and pay for it yourself was because Bruce was not one to exactly be chippy at the idea of you getting plastered drunk at one of his public galas. "I got one of two ideas. one: I'll go flirt with the bartender and you can sneak behind him and get the other bottle or two: I can flirt with the bartender for enough time to see if he'll just willingly give it to us," you told Raven as she nodded with option two.

the bartender happened to be in his younger 50s. you recognized him from previous WE events and although he was familiar with your family, you doubted that he would say anything to your dad about you flirting him with. all you had to do was push the top of the dress down a bit and hike up the bottom to get his attention.

"hey Martin," you said, leaning up against the bar table and smiling, "enjoying the night?" you asked as you saw him flinch back in surprise. he nodded, trying to divert his eyes from looking at you in anyway you could have felt to be disrespectful.

"I was thinking, how much does the bottle of Lafite Rothschild go for?" you asked, giving him a pouty face. he gulped nervously, "almost ten grand ma'am," he replied, grabbing it from the wine stand, "even for me? I mean, my dad must've paid for it so does it even go for that much considering I am his child?" he asked.

you could tell that you had caught him in a predicament, "I would assume not, I assume you're twenty one, right?" he murmured, handing you the precious bottle. you smiled (a fake one that anyone could see through) and nodded before giving the old man a light kiss on the cheek, "thanks Martin, I appreciate it," you said, giving him a wave before leaving.

Raven perked up seeing the bottle in your hand, "snagged a ten thousand dollar bottle," you said excitedly as you waved it in your hand. Raven stared at you in shock, "you got a ten thousand dollar bottle in less than five minutes?" she exclaimed.

you giggled before whispering in her ear, "the benefits of being a child of Bruce Wayne is that you can practically get away with anything. especially when you're the daughter." you popped open the bottle as you handed her the wine glass and poured the drink with care. you gave her a slight cheers before taking a small sip and being pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as dry for a wine with a huge amount of alcohol percentage.

as the night progressed, you and Raven got actively more drunk. you hadn't realized how hard the wine had hit you until Raven was drunkenly getting pulled home by Gar as you sat at the table with a little less than the bottle still full. you hadn't seen your dad or brother all night and you figured they must've been pulled into doing Batfamily work at some point and left you alone with Steph or Cass. hell, maybe even Dick if he was still around.

you weren't actively apart of the vigilante work all of your siblings did but you did help them out with the technical parts of it when Tim wasn't available. you didn't really like fighting or risking your life so after you graduated, you interned at Wayne Enterprises under Tim's orders while Damian worked under your dad.

at the age of twenty-one, you still hadn't met most of the league for the exception of Wonder Woman and The Flash. the rest were strangers in your head and much to Damian's luck, he wanted to keep it that way. at least in his case with Jon.

"ow, I am so sorry," you slurred as you managed to hit someone on the shoulder. he chuckled seeing as how you were not attempting to get up, "you okay there ma'am?" the man with a southern accent asked. you giggled as you attempted to get up, "I'm ( your name ) and you are?" you asked.

"Jon Kent, pleasure to meet you," he said, kissing your hand. you blushed as you heard one of your favorite songs come through the speakers, "would you like to dance?" you asked, not even caring that you had met this just a few mere seconds ago. he nodded, figuring that since Damian left him stranded at the gala, he had nothing to lose.

the song 'telepatia' by Kali Uchis played throughout the ballroom. Jon immediately took the reigns as the lead as the lights got dimmer and you danced against Jon sensually. "what got you dragged here?" you asked Jon. "my best friend invited me as his plus one. you?" he whispered in your ear, "I work for the company so I kind of had to attend," you managed to say before turning around and facing him.

you looked at Jon with drunken yet loving eyes, "you're handsome, you know that?" you said with no hesitation in your face. Jon laughed, placing his hand on your cheek, "right back at ya, darlin'," he replied as the song switched to another one of your favorite songs.

side to side by ariana grande started.

you shrugged, feeling as though you had nothing to lose and got up on your toes gave Jon a kiss on his lips. he was slightly taken back but played it off by returning it. the two of you remained kissing through the entirety of the song until Jon felt a familiar tap on his shoulder.

"I gotta go but if you're up for it, I'd love for ya to give me your number," you nodded excitedly as you practically snatched his phone from his hand and typed it in as quickly as possible with your name having a hundred emoji's next to it, "text me in the morning!" you screamed.

Jon laughed before following Damian from behind, "you suck, you know that!" Jon exclaimed, "I meet one girl I actually like and you drag me away!" Damian rolled his eyes, "please, you act like there isn't more girls out there to hit on." this time, it was Jon's turn to roll his eyes, "I got her number so I guess that's a plus."

you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache but to a few messages on your phone. you smiled realizing that it was the boy you had met the night before.

"good morning...or actually good afternoon!"

Jon laughed from his side of the phone.

"good afternoon darlin'. I hope you had a good sleep."

you were texting your way down the stairs, greeting Alfred and Bruce before grabbing a plate of lunch and sitting down on the bar top. "what time you'd make it home?" Bruce asked, sensing the hangover you had. "a bit past midnight. drank a bottle of Lafite with Raven before dancing with a boy you invited," you said honestly.

Bruce felt himself go stiff at the admittance of you drinking the Lafite bottle but remained silent as Alfred placed Advil and one of your Gatorades next to you. "yeah, whoever must've danced with you last night must've been drunk too because you'd want to dance with you?" Damian said coming down the stairs.

you threw him a fork, Damian dodging it with ease, "I'd shut up if I were you. I'm actually getting coffee with the guy in like an hour," you replied, chugging down the rest of the food before getting up and going to your room, "yeah and I pray for the man who now has to deal with you," Damian screamed loud enough for you to hear.

you pulled on a skirt and tights before slipping on a sweater and fixing your hair and quickly doing your makeup. you grabbed the keys from your bag and took the back entrance to get to your car. one of the benefits of getting paid so much was that you were able to afford cars that were out of price range for a lot of people your age.

the coffee shop you decided to meet Jon at was a few blocks into the heart of central Gotham. you got a table farthest from the crowd as you didn't want any attention on you and your potential boyfriend. you saw Jon approaching at the front of the coffee shop and pulled on your sunglasses so no one outside could see who you were.

"nice to meet you, this time with me not being drunk," you told Jon, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, "pleasure is all mine sweetheart," he replied, putting his arm around your shoulder. you got up to the front of cashier and scanned the menu.

"I'd like a venti mocha with oatmilk, what about you?" you asked Jon as he scanned the menu nervously before muttering that he hardly orders coffee. you smiled, "and an order of a grande peppermint hot chocolate," you added on as you took your card out, Jon's eyes widening at the black American Express card.

"wow, Wayne Enterprises must pay you really well," he exasperated, "yeah, I guess you could say that," you said as hesitantly as possible. after the two of you got the coffees, you got back to the table as you took off your sunglasses in a sigh of relief.

"do you really wear sunglasses everywhere you go?" Jon asked. you debated on telling him the actual reason but decided on a vague answer, "eh, it's more for secrecy. I guess if I get another date, I might tell you the real reason," you winked, making Jon blush.

+

through the weeks, you decided to keep the biggest part of your life a semi secret to Jon still. he knew vaguely of a few things but one mistake on your end managed to throw all of that away in more ways than one.

you were walking downtown with Jon, his hand grasping yours as the two of you roamed an area of town that you knew didn't have major significance to WE. you were holding a coffee in one hand as you walked about a few things that happened to you that week to Jon. it wasn't until you walked towards a busy street that your heart fell to your stomach.

a huge billboard, like signs you would see on highways, of you and Damian representing Wayne Enterprises stood in the middle of an intersection. you stared at the ground, your one secret given away as Jon stared down at you, a look of shock in his eyes.

"wait, you work with Damian Wayne?" he asked as he could tell that you did not want to look at him. you sighed, a bit scared, "work partners might be a little too far from what we are," you gulped, finally realizing that you had to admit to your family ties.

Jon looked at you, now more confused than shocked.

what you didn't know was that at the same time that you were about to confess everything to Jon, a paparazzi had taken dozens of photos of you and Jon that were immediately uploaded to various Twitter accounts and gossip magazines.

"Damian Wayne is my adopted brother. Bruce Wayne is my adopted dad. that's why I have a lot more money than any regular Wayne Enterprise worker."

Jon immediately stumbled to the ground, not expecting that answer coming from you. you immediately felt tears hitting your eyes as you figured that maybe Jon didn't want to be with someone so rich and famous. someone's whose family was always in the spotlight.

"DAMIAN WAYNE IS YOUR BROTHER?" Jon screamed, catching you off guard as this was the first time Jon had ever screamed at you. you nodded, trying not to look at him in the eyes, "he's going to kill me. your entire family is going to plot my murder. I'm a dead man. Clark is going to find me in a ditch," Jon started talking to himself.

it was now your turn to look at Jon confused, "wait, what?" you asked, wiping your tears. "YOUR BROTHER IS MY BEST FRIEND. Damian Wayne is Robin and I'm Superboy!" he whispered the last part, "I've been dating my best friends sister this entire time without realizing it!" he screamed.

you finally connected the dots. every time Damian said he was going on patrol with Superboy meant that he was going to hang out with Jon and every time Damian said that Jon turned down a patrol session usually meant that you were going on a date with him. both of you stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

"small world, eh?" you asked, trying to defuse the tension, "guess we better figure out a way to tell them, huh?" Jon replied as you both heard your phone going off with texts and calls. you opened it to see that Dick, Bruce, Tim, and even Jason and Alfred were frantically calling you.

"hello, what happened?" you asked, picking up Dick's call. "GET HOME NOW!" he yelled through the phone as you heard Damian's screeching voice from the other side, "why? what happened?" you asked, staring at Jon now in fear.

"SHE'S DATING JON? I'M GOING TO KILL HIM BEFORE I KILL HER!" you heard Damian scream before something broke, "pictures of you kissing Jon came to the public on Twitter and he saw them," Jason said, half annoyed.

both of your hearts fell to your stomach as you realized it was now or never. everyone knew of your relationship and it wasn't even something both of you tried to do intentionally. you grabbed Jon's hand, yours shaking in fear as you got into the passenger side of his beat up red truck. he could tell you were beyond scared to go home and he now knew it was time. he had to man up before it got worse and you attempted to break up with him.

once you arrived to Wayne Manor, you sat still, not moving an inch. "it'll be okay darlin', I promise it won't be too bad," he murmured as he opened your door. you nodded as you hopped off and started walking towards the door.

you could hear Damian's yells still going on from the other side door as you opened it. you grasped Jon's hand and walked into the living space, Damian's eyes immediately looking at you before charging to Jon with every ounce of strength he had. Jason quickly grabbed you as Jon dodged him and Damian went straight to attack him again. you couldn't bare to look at the sight and felt tears spring to your eyes as you hid your face into Jason's side.

"hey, you okay?" Jason asked. he could see the tears in your eyes which instantly made him a bit upset. "enough," Jason screamed, catching everyone's attention. Jon and Damian saw the hurt look on your face and as soon as Jon realized you were upset at the fight he was having, he kicked Damian off of him and walked towards you.

he grabbed your hand and whispered an apology into your ear as he stroked your cheek lovingly, "I'm sorry dear but I wasn't expecting Damian to do this," Jon said as Damian watched the way Jon was treating you. a part of him knew that Jon would treat you right. Jon wasn't like your typical average boy but the fact that neither of you told him is what set him off and seeing you being so lovingly with Jon set him off again.

Damian ran towards Jon again but this time, you shielded him which made him stop immediately, "Damian, stop, please," you croaked. Bruce saw you trying to neutralize the situation and stood next to Damian, hinting at him to quit it, "I'm sorry we never told you but the reason why we never did was because we had no idea who the other was. I didn't know Jon was your best friend and clearly didn't know that he was Superboy and he had no idea I was even related to you nevertheless your sister. please, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine," you explained.

Dick, Jason, and Tim stared at Jon who grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, "and I would have never made the move if I knew she was your sister but we fell in love and it was like a soulmate connection. we were meant for each other and I want her to be in my life. she's it for me," Dick sighed mesmerized as Tim and Jason gagged at the cheesy confession.

Damian growled, "if you even think of hurting her, Clark will be down one son and I mean it. that's my sister and no man will ever be good enough for her. you are my best friend and she might be a pain in my ass, she means the world to me. I will not hesitate to dig your grave and bury you alive if I see one tear of sadness coming down her face," Damian stated before hitting Jon on the shoulder purposely before walking away.

you smiled, your heart swelling at Damian's speech. he never once said anything like that about you and in his Damian way of being, you knew this was his way of accepting your relationship with Jon. you smiled at Jon before giving him a huge kiss on the lips, making your dad and all of your brothers gag at the sight.

"okay, save that shit for privacy, no one needs to see that," Jason said as he walked away. Bruce gave you one look before turning to Jon, "your father knows in case you were wondering but feel free to stay for dinner if you'd like," Bruce said before walking away with Tim and Dick walking away with him.

"I love you," you whispered to Jon as he let out a laugh against your lips, "I love you too and I'm all of this was cleared out." you nodded in agreement as you grasped his hand, "wanna come up to my room? I figured we should catch some sleep before Alfred calls everyone for dinner and Damian starts another fight," Jon agreed, giving you a kiss on your head as the two of you walked up the stairs.

#dc comics #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #jon kent x y/n #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #robin

[sondepoch]

HC: MC breaks a bone!

Demons can’t break bones. Neither can angels. Nope, from head to toe, they’re pretty much indestructible. So imagine everyone’s utter shock when you break a bone, and they’re reminded of just how weak the human body really is.

Word Count: 5.2k

SFW + mild violence + mild description of broken bones 

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

Boi flips out

So it didn’t actually happen while he was around, which is why he has so much trouble understanding what happened

You tripped on the steps outside Majolish? And you fell the wrong way??? And somehow, that was enough for you to break your ankle?!?!?!

Poor baby, he has no idea how he’s going to relay the information to Diavolo

When Mammon and Asmo sheepishly enter his study to tell him what happened, they’re highkey terrified for their lives - but learning that you actually broke a bone has him so shook that he doesn’t even remember to punish them, and he’s instead rushing to your room to see the damage for himself

He sees Belphie napping on your stomach and sort of assumes that everything is okay, and that his brothers were making a big deal out of nothing

Then he gets closer and sees the horribly twisted angle your left foot is in

Suffice it to say, neither Mammon nor Asmo returned to their rooms fully unscathed that night

Overcomes his natural hatred of Solomon to call him and ask for—brace yourself—help, and when the mage offers to cast a spell that will revert your body to its prior state, Lucifer insists on doing it himself, no longer trusting anyone else with your all-too-fragile body

Relocates your room to the first floor of the house after all is said and done

Asks Diavolo to move all your classes such that you don’t need to climb any stairs

Refuses to believe you when you tried to insist that bones breaking is fairly common for humans

Becomes super overprotective

Insists on helping you with everything

“Lucifer, I can walk down the stairs myself, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can” - he says with a straight face, refusing to let go of your hand as he takes you down the two-step elevation outside the House of Lamentation

(Bonus:) One day he catches you and Levi looking at parkour videos and from that moment and onward he refuses to let you out of sight for any longer than is absolutely necessary

(Bonus bonus:) Catches you doing "parkour" in your bedroom, jumping from Beel’s shoulders to the bed, and then it becomes a new house rule that you’re not allowed to climb onto Beel’s shoulders

Mammon

He was with you when it happened, and the second he heard the crack, he screamed

Honestly, the most high-pitched, shrill sound you’d ever heard

You were more scared of the noise coming out of Mammon’s mouth than the awkward way your pinky was dangling

Only when he was done screaming did the pain actually set in, and then you were hissing viciously in an attempt to distract yourself, trying your hardest to blink the tears from your eyes because Mammon already looked like he was about to cry, and the Devildom really didn’t need two blubbering messes in one day

The one saving grace for you both was the fact that Simeon was nearby, and he used his Celestial magic to heal you (you both begged him not to tell Lucifer, of course)

Baby becomes even more possessive over you afterwards

Still can’t get over how easily it happened

“Are ya sure?” Mammon asks whenever you casually tell him you’re about to do something. Doesn’t matter if you say you’re folding paper cranes or planning on jumping off the roof of the House of Lamentation, he’s lost pretty much all faith in your ability to do anything without your human body breaking in the process

Oddly enough, he becomes much more touchy with you

Needs you to “prove to him” that you’re not injured by squeezing his hand

And then he just doesn’t let go

Oh, you’re holding hands? What? Who said that? Wait, can you prove that you’re not injured and squeeze his hand again? It’s for safety purposes. For safety.

Occasionally, though, he really does have you move your pinky just to prove to him that there weren’t any lasting effects

Overprotectiveness increases by 500 points

Starts to hover around your room a lot more, awkwardly trying to help (really, he’s doing his best) but often doing things much worse than if you simply did them yourself

Gets into a fight with his brothers whenever one of them handles you too roughly

“Hey!” He shouts at pretty much anyone who touches you “Ya gonna hurt my human!”

Will drop anything and everything if he ever sees you trip to catch your fall

Legit, he was once holding Lucifer’s cup of coffee and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you jump to flop on the couch. Cue instant panic mode: he turned into his demon form and all - literally throwing the coffee on Lucifer as he ran forward to catch your body before the couch could break any of your bones

Yeah, he got into a lot of trouble that day

Leviathan

Has officially decided that he’s never going outside again

Ever.

It happened while you were both at one of Lord Diavolo’s parties - you were trying to maneuver the crowds in search of him, actually, and another demon tugged you close and tried to force you to dance. You fought back, of course, frowning as you escaped the demon’s hold, but apparently, they pulled you back and your wrist just snapped

God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sound of your scream

The demon was punished severely, Diavolo made sure of that. But Levi didn’t care anymore - he just wanted to get you back home, safe and sound

In the following days, he never leaves your side

You have to switch to online classes, at least for as long as your wrist is healing, and Levi takes it upon himself to make sure that the assimilation process is as smooth as possible

You start taking all your classes together, remaining in the same room even if you don’t have the same subject

Homework is a little harder, since Levi usually finishes before you, but he waits for you to finish while he reads manga

Evenings are spent watching anime in his room and debating random topics (oh, and you both marathon the entirety of TSL a couple more times ;))

He even tries to let you get the video game experience, and he picks an RPG game for you both to play and lets you tell him what to do an how to move around, since your wrist is broken

It’s actually super fun because he knows where all the traps are and which ones you’ll like, so he subtly guides your character through the gameplay process to get the best possible experience, and you actually end up enjoying this more than playing solo

(As a joke, he once offers to let you play with him. As in, you use your nonbroken hand to control the left side of the controller and he controls the right side, but that turns out to be a hot mess and you both quickly abandon the idea)

Even after your wrist heals, the two of you continue to spend boatloads of time together

This boy even stops calling you “normie” at one point

Real subtle about it but he tries to convince you not to go back into society again. Like ever. 

“What if you get hurt again?” He asks when you tell him you’ve made plans with Asmo to go shopping

“Then we get to spend even more time together, all over again!”

Cue leviathan/blushingmess.exe

Satan

Probably the ONLY brother to have actually known that it’s possible for humans to break bones

Why?

He read about it in a book once

Still, that doesn’t stop him from visually flinching when he sees you writhing on the ground after being shoved into a bike rack by a lower-level demon, clutching your arm which is disfigured so awkwardly that the bone is popping out

His demon form manifests immediately, and he’s about to rip this demon to shreds when you desperately call out his name, and then he’s more preoccupied with helping you than he is with beating this demon to death

(Inwardly, though, he’s quite relieved that you stopped him from killing the demon immediately. Now, he’ll get to spend the next four millennia torturing the creature slowly, keeping it just an inch from death until he’s satisfied that the demon has paid for injuring you so severely. :))

Runs over to you immediately and pulls you onto his lap, quickly muttering an enchantment that will temporarily numb the pain

Proceeds to ask you whether you want him to use magic to forcefully heal you or if you want to heal the human way

Will respect your wishes 100% no matter which you choose

Throws himself into reading and studying human medicine as soon as the two of you get back to the House of Lamentation

By the end of the month, he’s an expert on human anatomy (and where human strength lies on a comparative figure to demon strength)

Takes it upon himself to watch out for you, threatening any demons who express behavior that isn’t excessively cautious

Starts walking with you and Mammon to and from school

Keep it lowkey, but the truth is that he doesn’t trust his brother to fully make sure that you’re safe so he takes it upon himself

Doesn’t really panic too much, he knows that you getting injured was more the demon’s fault than it was yours

Is actually very considerate of your feelings in all this

Consciously makes sure that he doesn’t treat you too differently, not wanting to make you feel like he thinks you’re weak. But he no longer trusts other demons around you, and after getting your permission, he casts an enchantment on you which prevents lower-level demons from touching you without your explicit consent

Smiles devilishly every single time one of them tries to shove you in the hallways of RAD and gets sent flying 30 meters backwards in response

Devilish smile intensifies when he finally gets around to kidnapping and torturing the demon who dared to push and injure you in the first place

Asmodeus

He’s worried about you for a good hour

Not to say he’s inconsiderate

No, he’s understandably concerned immediately after he sees you on crutches, and when you come home with a broken foot, he’s immediately hanging out with you and completely (read: barely) restraining himself from making flirtatious comments in case you’re still in pain

The second he realizes that you’re fine as long as you don’t apply pressure on it, a switch flips

Now that he knows that the fracture isn’t going to spread to the rest of your body and destroy you from the inside, he’s overwhelmed with how cute it is that you need his help to do basic stuff

And honestly, you kinda vibe with it

He’s the shortest brother, so you having to ask him for help to get things off the shelf because you can’t stand is a rarity, and he is living for it

He lives with six overlords of hell, so the feeling of someone asking (no matter how reluctant) him for help in simple stuff like climbing up or down the stairs is something he absolutely cherishes

The second he realizes how good it feels to do stuff for you, he’ll never stop

Will 100% put Mammon to shame in how frequently he starts hanging by your side

He thinks of everything even before you do, always making sure that when you guys sit down, you have everything you need to be occupied for hours: from water to nail polish to the latest gossip at RAD, this man will make it his life’s mission to be the perfect prince while you’re injured

Seriously spoils you

Even when you finally heal and get better, he doesn’t stop helping you

Actually has the nerve to start complaining when you try to do stuff on your own

“You’re going to hurt yourself! Let me do it for you!”

“Asmo, I’m microwaving popcorn”

It doesn’t matter if you shower him with 'thank yous’ or if you grunt in annoyance every time he sits down next to you with an item you were about to get up and look for, he knows you appreciate the things he’s doing and that’s all he needs

Effectively gives you the royal treatment, occasionally putting Barbatos to shame with how diligent he is in helping you out

It never stops, even months after you’ve made a full recovery

Then again, who are you to complain? ;)

Beelzebub

Suddenly becomes terrified of his own strength

He’s there as it happens, and the way your face immediately contorts in pain right before you bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming will really never stop haunting him

It doesn’t help that you get injured from something that would usually be considered child-safe in the Devildom - a small windup toy which your fingers had gotten stuck in before two of them snap completely

Man is by your side immediately

The pit in his stomach isn’t caused by hunger but by genuine fear as he watches Lucifer and Satan soothe you with magic

He wants to run over to you and wipe your tears away, but should he? How can that be a good idea? He’s easily 1000000000x stronger than that toy you were messing around with, and what if he accidentally hurts you?

He knew it was possible for him to kill you before, but now he realizes how easy it would be - so simple that he might not even realize it

Instantly steps back and begins avoiding physical contact with you, trying his hardest to be there for you emotionally but struggling because every time you ask him for cuddles, he awkwardly changes the subject and looks away

He only comes clean to you about his concerns after you get mad at him and plant yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his head angrily as you demand that he give you affection

“Beel,” You mutter, a light pout forming on your face. “The reason you’re strong isn’t just because you have the muscles, it’s because you have control. You’ve never hurt me before, and nothing you do will hurt me now, so stop being such a stubborn goof and hug me”

Cue very hesitant hug

But it’s a start, and he slowly becomes physically close to you once more

(Subtly tries to let you stay in charge, though. He’ll initiate hugs, but you’re the one to squeeze tightly, and he’ll simply follow your lead)

Decides that rather than being afraid of what his strength can do, he’s going to use it to his advantage - and he resolves to become even stronger so that if there’s ever anything that can cause you pain, he’ll be there by your side protecting you, whether it’s against a demon strong as Diavolo or another windup toy from Majolish

Gets into the habit of running his fingers over your hand after it’s done healing, checking for scars and making sure that you’re still completely healed

Slowly develops into handholding - and who is Beel to complain? If he’s holding your hand, he’s by your side, and if he’s by your side, he can better protect you, so there’s no problem there

Belphegor

Quietly blames himself

It apparently happened while you were alone, and you fell down the stairs in the House of Lamentation. But Belphie is 99.99% sure that you were only going up to see him, and if he had just been awake, this never would have happened

Not to mention, this was the second time he had caused you pain, and it wasn’t even intentional!

Boy can’t look you in the eyes properly after the incident

Starts forcing himself to stay awake and isolates himself in the attic

Only when Beel finally gets serious and asks him what’s wrong does he quietly confess his thoughts, and his twin is quick to relay the information back to you

Honestly, you’re lowkey relieved when you hear the reason 

You were beginning to think that Belphie was avoiding you because he had grown tired of your company, and the thought was sort beginning to break your heart

That doesn’t stop you from yelling at him for being inconsiderate 

“This is why you need to talk about your feelings, Belphie!”

“But— “

“No buts!”

Honestly, he’s kind of relieved to see you yell at him so animatedly despite the cast around your arm, it makes him realize that although you’re physically injured, you’re mentally fine

Is very hesitant about napping on you, especially since he knows that if he falls asleep and accidentally shifts into a position that hurts you, you won’t be strong enough to stop him

You flick his forehead and tell him to not to be stupid, insisting that he sleeps next to you like usual, and he very hesitantly leans on the shoulder of the opposite arm you injured

Becomes way more considerate, even when tired

Shift in your sleep? He’s awake, checking to make sure that you aren’t uncomfortable or in pain

Wake up and try to get a glass of water? No problem, Belphie will get it for you, just stay here and sleep tight

Hogging the blanket? For the first time, Belphie doesn’t even mind, he’ll just carefully snuggle closer to you, double-checking that you’re comfortable before drifting back off to sleep

Even after the cast comes off, he’s still conscious about how tightly he grips you and how much physical exertion you put your body through, always reminding himself that, above all, you’re human and your body can’t handle the things his can

Solomon

Groans

That’s right, thanks to an awkward fall, your toe is broken, and this wizard boy has to audacity to groan at the sight of you on the floor, tears in your eyes as you clutch your foot through your shoe

“As if those brothers don’t hate me enough as is,” He grumbles, lifting you to your feet and whisking you back to Purgatory Hall, where he goes full medic mode and inspects the damage

Tries his hardest to convince you to let him fix it with magic, but just last week, he accidentally turned you into a cat while attempting to place a strength enchantment over you, so you’re understandably hesitant as you refuse him

As expected, when the brothers find out, they put him through hell (pun intended)

For not being able to protect you while it happens (they ignore his complaints that it was technically you who fell and injured yourself) he is now tasked with your recovery

Aka he is your slave

You make him carry your books when you go from class to class, you make him buy you lunch from the cafeteria, you make him give you his lecture notes whenever you don’t feel like paying attention in class

Hell, if he weren’t such a god awful cook, you would probably make him take over your cooking duty, as well

“This is abuse” He huffs one day, sighing in irritation after you ask him to go fetch you a glass of water

“I’m sorry?” You ask, feigning innocence. “What’s that? Did you ask me to go tell Lucifer that you aren’t treating me properly?”

Grumbles under his breath in six different languages, cursing you out in each one of them as you wink at him

You’re almost sad when your toe finally heals, and he’s finally free

Thankfully, the two of you somehow grew used to each other after spending so much time together for so long, and (much to the brothers’ displeasure) you continue hanging out with Solomon long after you’re off crutches

Will tease you about it when it’s all over

He doesn’t forget about how you lorded over him for as long as you were injured, and thus takes it upon himself to make sure that you don’t get hurt again under his watch

(At least, that’s what he tells himself as he holds your hand to march you down the steps outside Majolish, not letting go even after the ‘threat’ is passed)

Simeon

confusedangel.exe

First and foremost, how did this happen??

He’s so concerned and shocked when you show up to RAD one day in crutches because you broke a bone on your leg

Didn’t know that was possible

Actually goes home and spends half an hour on the Devildom equivalent of Google trying to maneuver his phone and search up how common this is and whether it’s normal for humans

Accidentally opens the images tab and sees a bunch of super disturbing and painful-looking injuries, and he nearly drops his phone altogether

Instantly assumes that your injury is as bad as those, despite your constant reassurances that you’re fine as long as you don’t apply too much pressure

Lots of pampering

He’s suddenly available 100% of the time for you, no matter what he’s already doing or the time of day

Insists on helping you wherever he can, like holding your stuff for you at RAD, ferrying you from class to class without forcing you to don that heavy rucksack 

Even takes over the responsibility of walking you to and from school

He doesn’t quite understand that your injury is physical??

Like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that you’re mentally unaffected by the injury, because angelic injuries are typically so difficult to induce and severe that they always cause some kind of trauma 

He’s always testing you - double-checking that you remember facts from old lectures, holding up fingers to test your sight, even asking you details about himself every now and then

That’s actually the story of how you accidentally told him that you thought his eyes were prettier than the sky and he still hasn’t forgotten it

Never really forgets about your injury, even after your crutches are long gone

Protectiveness goes up by 5000%

He suddenly becomes acutely aware of the fact that you’re surrounded by demons and, although the brothers usually mean well, he becomes impossible concerned for how you’re faring

He expresses his concerns to you one day really sweetly and you’re so touched because ??? How can someone be this pure???

To ease his concerns, you both start hanging out a lot more - when before you mostly hung out at the RAD library before parting ways, Simeon now invites you over to Purgatory Hall more often and you bring him back to the House of Lamentation so that he can see how safe you are with the brothers

Luke

Just like Simeon, there’s so much confusion going on inside this smol bean’s head

Are you really telling him that you??? the person who has taken it upon themself to be protective over HIM??? are so weak and fragile??? that tripping over a pebble was enough to fracture your jaw???

The roles in your relationship are suddenly reversed

(Or well, Luke tries to reverse them)

He does his best to be there for you instead of vice versa, insisting that you no longer need to save him from the brothers when they make fun of him for being like a chihuahua 

Lowkey, he actually earns their respect for how protective he’s suddenly being over you, but the baby can only go so far because - face it - he’s basically ten years old

Doesn’t let that stop him from shooting dirty looks toward any demon who looks at the bandages on your face twice

Immediately goes home and researches what kind of foods you can comfortably eat, and enlists both Barbatos and Beel’s help in cooking soft dishes for you that you’ll be able to eat, despite your injury

Does his best to help you where he can

Takes over your cooking duty at the House of Lamentation

Takes extra-detailed notes so he can lend them to you after class

Even goes as far as to get high-quality Celestial bandages with natural healing properties and gives them to you, hoping that everything he’s doing will make your recovery a little bit faster

He’s really come to look up to you as an older sibling, so seeing you injured (even if you don’t necessarily show the pain) has him seriously torn up inside, and it takes all his effort to keep a straight face every time he looks at you and sees the bandages on your face

If you’re even a little self-conscious about any scars afterwards, he will spend hours convincing you that you look fine (and in truth, he can’t actually see the scar anymore, so he’s being honest)

Long after you’re recovered, he will remember at the most random times that you’re so fragile despite always looking so strong, and it tears him up inside

Because of this, random, tearful hugs become the norm

Occasionally, one look is all it takes before his eyes are welling with tears and he’s burying his face inside your stomach, holding you tight and promising to “protect you to make sure that you never get hurt again”

Very innocent, very sweet

Never fully forgets ever again just how fragile humans are

Barbatos

Knew it could happen

Was sort of prepared for it to happen

Didn’t actually expect it to fucking happen

This is probably one of the only times where he regrets not using his powers to check and see what the future held - literally, it would have been so easy to have saved you had he known it was coming 

Went to Diavolo asking to switch timelines but the demon lord said no

Highkey becomes incredibly protective of you, just in super subtle ways

You suddenly find yourself invited to Diavolo’s palace much more often, and it’s Barbatos who now entertains you, bringing you there under the guise of asking you to “taste the new recipes” he’s attempting to perfect

Pfft, his recipes are already the definition of perfect - the only reason he’s putting that food in your mouth is because he cast a spell on it, and it’ll make your bones stronger

Dodges all questions when you ask about it, real slick

“Barbatos, isn’t this the same dish you gave Beel when we came here last month?”

“I’m afraid I have no recollection of what you’re talking about.”

“You know, the dessert you gave him after he asked you for the biggest banana spli—”

“Oh my, would you look at the time. Let’s get you home, now, before it gets too late”   

Used to walk in front of you when walking you around the palace, but he now walks behind you so that he can watch you in case you trip

I mean, why wouldn’t he? You managed to break your collarbone while jumping down the stairs in Diavolo’s palace - you clearly can’t be trusted to look after your own health

(lowkey also never leaves you unsupervised around Mammon again, who in hell thinks it’s a good idea to try parkour of all things in the castle of the demon lord??? and encourages it?????)

Finds it incredibly endearing when your injury renders you unable to do basic tasks

Like if you were a helpless human in his mind before, now you’re less independent than an unpottytrained demonchild, and Barbatos is living for it, especially since you’re too stubborn to ask the brothers for help, so you turn to him instead

Absolutely loves when you text him for help

[17:39] MC: barbatos?

[17:40] Barbatos: Yes? Are you in need of something?

[17:40] MC: ...i was walking around the House of Lamentation and i accidentally banged into the wall outside Satan’s room and there was a really big sound and it turns out that i knocked a bunch of his books off the shelf and he comes home in half an hour and please help he’s going to kill me if he sees what happened

[17:40] Barbatos:

[17:41] Barbatos: I’ll be right there.

Diavolo

Oh boy

This man has lived a long, LONG time and never in all those millennia has he been as pissed as he is now, seeing you sheepishly lean on Mammon for support with the nearly all of your leg hanging limp

What he can’t grasp is the fact that this actually happened in school

Like, it would be one thing if a demon had injured you out of spite - he could simply punish them for all eternity and eradicate the root of the problem

But for you to be injured this severely? In spellcasting class, no less?

Instantly fires the teacher who was careless enough to let you walk into a casting circle which almost obliterated you whole - and spends ages commending Satan for having the wit to save you before things got even worse

But that doesn’t stop him from using the full extent of his princely power to ensure your continued safety

Instantly moves you out of the House of Lamentation and into his own palace, ignoring Lucifer’s repeated requests for you to not be moved

“I need to make sure they’re comfortable,” He hisses to his right-hand man, almost to Barbatos’s amusement. “The healing process for humans is long, and I need to make sure that they get better without the distractions your brothers provide”

Makes it painfully clear that if you ever get injured again under an RAD teacher’s watch, nothing will be able to save them from the unforgiving flames of his wrath

Starts spending as much time with you as humanly possible 

He always stops by your room in the afternoon, generally to check on your well being and to inquire on how you’re faring, but those conversations always seem to wrap up late at night, long after you’ve both abandoned the original topic at hand and are lost in discussion over something else

One time, when he was feeling particularly guilty after looking at the painful swelling on your leg, he invited you back to his own room to sleep on his bed because - as the acting king of the Devildom - his bed is literally the most comfortable place in the world and he hardly uses it

You sleep in it once and can never sleep anywhere else again

For more reasons than one

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(Reluctantly) offers to let you move back into the House of Lamentation once you’re completely healed, but celebrates like crazy when you tell him that you’d much rather stay with him, and it becomes SUCH an ego stroke every time you remind him how much you adore it in his palace

Lowkey grateful that you got injured because it was the catalyst that allowed you both to grow close

But will absolutely make sure that nothing of the like ever happens again

#obey me headcanons #gender neutral headcanons #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #gender neutral mc #my favorite to write was #luke #<3 #first headcanon!

[divine-mistake]

'till death blooms us art

Summary: You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.

(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)

Characters: Sam Wilson/Plus-sized Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), strong language, Hanahaki AU, angst with a happy ending, weight insecurity, allusions to eating disorders, talk about death, blood, past domestic abuse and trauma, gun violence, original male character, book quotes, anxiety

Word Count: 12796

A/N: Thank you for reading! This fic won the vote during my 500 follower celebration and it's finally out now! This story has a lot of meaning for me, due to it being a bit of a metaphor for disorderly eating. I know that will make some people uncomfortable, but as someone who has struggled for a long time, I want to talk more openly about this kind of thing. Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!

main masterlist | AO3 | playlist by @tripleyeeet

—STUBBORN WEEDS—

They are everywhere—covering the space of the sitting room like an overgrown garden made of glass and paint, canvas and pages torn from old waterlogged books, stained mugs filled with decaying brushes. Wanda walks through your room like it’s a maze, her fingers trailing over the air but never touching the art. She’s pretending she’s in a museum, or a gallery, or something fancier than what you could ever appear in, but a twinge of something akin to warmth stabs through your heart at the thought.

“These are incredible,” she says, not looking at you. “How do you do it?”

With a shrug, you bend down and pick up one of the canvasses from the floor, holding it out to look at it.

“I don’t know,” you lie.

White space in the shape of flowers, uneven and missing petals here and there, is outlined in streaks of paint that go every direction, in every different shade, hard edges and soft, blurred lines and covering the entirety of the canvas except for those spaces where flowers once sat, pinned to the medium.

“They are beautiful,” Wanda says.

Your nail sneaks under one of the dried chunks of acrylic and you chip it—a fleck of ultramarine blue falls from the painting.

When you turn, Wanda studies a different piece in careful hands. It’s a glass case, trimmed with shitty, shaky lines of gold you painted on a whim. But inside, between the thick panes, dried flowers painted over are encased in eternity, arranged to match their exact placements on the canvas where your brushes stroked life onto them, around them, through them. Two perfect pieces that once belonged together, separated like an act of Adam against his God.

Maybe they were meant to be together, but no one will ever know their story.

“They’re amateur,” you tell her, laughing. “I’m not much of an artist. It’s just for fun.”

She smiles at you, placing the glass piece down. “You have a talent.”

Wanda takes another turn about the room, another circuit, another spin. She looks at every piece in such focus, taking in every single detail, fingers stretching and curling as if she wants to caress the dried flowers, the dried paint, and feel their meaning. You wonder what she would say if she could read their minds—the art you’ve made. Would your pieces tell her the true meaning behind their existence? Or maybe they would laugh, or cry, or howl in pain.

But Wanda only stares, at the paintings and at you, a small smile on her face like she knows something you don’t. Like she’s keeping a secret. Is she keeping the secrets that the flowers have whispered to her when you weren’t looking?

“What inspired them?” she asks, the very tip of her nail tracing a different glass box filled with dyed petals reconstructed into a larger artificial flower, protected by its own display.

You wring your hands together. “I like flowers.”

She laughs. “That’s obvious. But what makes them special enough to paint? To—To make such lovely art out of?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you place the small canvas you’d been holding back on the side table, crossing the room to your bookshelf. Your fingertip finds the spine of a hardcover book you’re too familiar with, pulling it out and into your awaiting hands. Sheets of paper, a little bent and crooked, stick out of the pages.

You crack it open, the dulling white petals of a daisy pressed flat between the crackling spine fluttering from between the black inked words, then fall to the floor at your feet.

“The Devil’s hand directs our every move,” you read. “The things we loathed become the things we love.”

Wanda stares at you as you fiddle with the book, tracing the words of the cover.

“Les Fleurs du Mal,” you say. “The Flowers of Evil.”

Gently and without word, she bows at your feet and picks up the drying daisy, cradling it in her pale hands, but you don’t have the strength to take it from her.

(“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I had to run some errands this morning, y’know how it is, so I’m out of the Tower right now. I was just wondering if you needed anything while I was out. Anything—really, anything at all. Even breakfast, or maybe a latte? Just a little pick-me-up. Well, give me a call back if you need anything. If not, I’ll be back soon. See ya.”)

—BETTER TOGETHER—

“Steven Grant,” you say his name like a curse, shaking your head. “This is why you spend three hours a day in the gym.”

Too busy shoving the first bite of his first hoagie into his mouth, Steve doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes, but the smile on your lips gives you away. When he’s finally swallowed, wiping crumbs from his mouth, he looks a little indignant.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Well, you would be if you didn’t have that serum running through you.”

He frowns, brows furrowed, a little confusion on his face. “I thought it was because I work out three hours a day. And I’ll have you know—”

“—you work out six hours a day between your morning runs and training, I know, I know. I’ve heard it all before Steve.” You groan at the thought. “It’s like it’s your job.”

“It is my job. Saving the world and all that.”

“Okay, you really need to let America know that it’s giving you a complex, ‘cause if I hear one more thing about you saving the world, I think I’m going to scream.”

He shrugs, taking another gigantic bite out of his sandwich. Scraps of shredded lettuce fall out from between the buns and litter his plate. You pick at your own, pulling uneven pieces of sliced onion and stray pickles from the hoagie, content to sit and stare at it instead of eating.

Food is good. You brush the grainy crumbs of bread from your fingers. Food is good, but you just aren’t hungry. And you don’t work out three hours a day. Maybe you should start. Your body feels like a balloon with all your insides threatening to come up in a retch and choke you. Food is good. Food is good. You just have to pick up the sandwich and eat it.

Fingers shaking, you take the sub in your hand and stare at the corner where you mean to take the first bite.

“You good?”

Steve, still chewing, looks at you with concern clear in his crystal blues and it makes you put your food back down on the plate. Instead, you busy yourself with another sip of your water, nodding at him.

“Yeah. We can’t all be Steve Rogers, demolishing two hoagies in less than two seconds, y’know.” You throw in a snort, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wipe your mouth, Captain. You’ve got mayo on your cheek.”

He doesn’t, but him grabbing a napkin to embarrassedly wipe a nonexistent condiment from his face gives you enough time to pick your sandwich back up and contemplate taking the first bite. You’ve just gotta start with the first bite and the rest will go down.

But you aren’t hungry. How can you be hungry when you’re already so full? Stuffed, even. There isn’t room in your insides. All your organs are bursting. It’s so painful sometimes, the expanding of your skin to accommodate. Waves of sickness roll through you, spreading. Your stomach is stretched, bloated, filled with all the swallowed—

“What are you doin’ to my girl, huh Steve?”

The sound of his voice alone makes the ache inside of you dissipate, the nausea escapes from your throat, the anxiety twitching through your hands steadies. Your head perks up, shoulders rolling back as your entire body relaxes, and you look behind you.

And there, dressed in a tight blue polo and a pair of pants clinging to his legs like they were made for him, the very angel who blessed you, the devil who cursed you, the god of the fucking sun and everything it could ever touch, stands before you with a smile saved just for you.

Sam Wilson.

His dark eyes are piercing, like he’s trying to peel back the layers of your skin to see underneath, as he shoves his hands in his pockets and grins with all his teeth.

“Hey honey,” he says—simply and easily and not serious. Never serious.

Your lungs burn. Your mouth feels too dry to answer him.

“Oh, your girl?” Steve asks him, brows a little too furrowed to be joking. “When did she become your girl?”

Sam shrugs, walking toward the empty seat next to you, placing his hand on the back of your chair so dangerously close to your body that it makes you pull in a deep breath. His thumb could brush against the fabric of your shirt, run along the seam of your spine. And, goddamn, it should be illegal for him to look so casual and so unbothered while still looking that handsome.

Like this, you can smell the spice in his cologne, a powerful mix of something you’re sure is designed to drive you crazy.

He looks down at you, still hovering over where you sit, and throws a wink your way that brings heat to the surface of your cheeks.

“Aw, she’s always been my girl, ain’t that right? Tell him, darlin’.”

You stare at Sam for one second too long, breaking away to gaze down at your uneaten sandwich again. With every flutter that Sam sends down your stomach, the heaviness inside it seems to fade away. Your fullness is replaced by a familiar hunger—the rawness of your throat waning as a burning itch takes over. A cough is threatening to bubble up. You choke it back, smiling instead.

“He’s right, Stevie,” you say all bright and cheery again.

Steve meets your eyes with a stony gaze, unreadable, his blue eyes looking gray in the light. Beside you, Sam throws himself down in one of the chairs and pulls up to the table, hand still sitting on the back of your seat. His knees are spread a little wide, thigh resting against yours.

It’s so innocent but your brain thinks it’s so intimate. A lie. A lie.

In the end, Steve relaxes back, his eyebrows lifting as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He tosses one of the sticky plastic menus toward Sam, nodding at it.

“Order up, man,” Steve says, his tone more neutral than you think you’ve ever heard it in regards to Sam. “But I’m not paying for yours. You’re on your own.”

At that, Sam laughs, full and robust with his face up to the ceiling. He rocks back in his chair, shaking his head, and he looks so beautiful even in the shitty sub shop that Steve drags you to for lunch every other week that it makes you ache and your lungs contract in an attempt to cough.

You swallow it back again, trying to even out your breathing. The itch in your throat is so bad that you almost pick up your sandwich to eat again, but your hand passes it up to take another few sips of your water. It’s cool, clear, refreshing—but it can’t make the tickle of the cough go away.

“So,” Sam starts once he’s finished ordering his own hoagie, “how’s that apartment hunting going? Found anything good yet?”

A frown forms, heavy, on your lips. You pick off a flaking piece of bread from your sandwich, watching it turn to crumbs underneath your fingers.

“It’s going,” you say, but anyone who ever responds to a question of how’s it going with it’s going is absolutely lying and it is absolutely not going—and maybe Sam knows that, or maybe Steve does, or hell, maybe they both do but it makes you look weak to admit that things aren’t going so well out loud.

And you—you can’t admit the truth, so it’s just better to lie about it.

You don’t want to leave the Tower.

“It’s going, huh?” Sam asks, his tone proving that he can see right through you. “You need help looking at some places or something?”

“Well—”

“You know,” he barrels through your words as if they are nothing, “I think I actually know a realtor around here. Maybe he can get you some leads on rentals or something. I could make some calls for you, honey.”

It’s not supposed to—Sam only means well, he always does, always trying to do so much for people—but it hurts to hear. Because you don’t hear him saying that he’s trying to help you out. You hear him saying he doesn’t want you around the Tower anymore.

Because, well, why would he want you there?

To him, you’re just an outsider. A girl who doesn’t belong. Someone who daydreams and doodles flowers on every surface as soon as she thinks of him. And you always think of him.

Before you can think about it, your hand flies to your mouth reflexively to hold back a cough. Instantly, Sam’s leaning closer and that damned hand of his falls soft against your back.

“You okay?”

There’s barely a moment for you to nod, signaling that you’re fine, before Steve’s got on his game face, all hard lines and furrowed brows and thin lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing Sam’s attention. “She’s allowed to stay as long as she wants, alright? The Tower is her home now, too. So there isn’t a rush for her to find a place unless she wants to leave.”

The passion and care in Steve’s voice is strong, almost so overpowering it’s oppressive, and something rises up from within you and threatens to send salty tears careening down your cheeks if you don’t blink them away.

Sam raises his hands in front of him dramatically. “Okay, okay, I get it. I wasn’t trying to run her off or anything, just wanted to lend a hand if I could. Damn, Steve.”

Something changes at the table, then. It’s like a fog, thick and cloying, falls over the three of you and keeps you lethargic—so much so that the only words spoken in the next few awkward minutes are Sam’s thanks when the waiter brings his sandwich by.

You still haven’t even touched yours, and you hope it seems like you’re just waiting for Sam to get his, because Steve’s tearing into his second and by the looks of the mustard dripping down his fingers messily, he’ll be done any minute now.

But as you prop your head up on the table, leaning on your elbow boredly, Sam nudges his leg into yours to grab your attention. When you turn to look at him, he’s got that grin again, all pearly and white with the little crooked gap you think you could stare at forever as long as it meant he was smiling and laughing and happy.

“You gonna eat, girl?” Sam picks his sub up in his hand and gestures at you to do the same. God, he makes you dizzy just by talking. The butterflies in your belly are fighting tooth and nail against your organs, trying to take up all the space, but they aren’t really butterflies. The soft monsters in your stomach leave a taste on your tongue you can’t explain.

“Oh.” You mimic his movement and then Sam toasts his hoagie against yours with a chuckle.

“First bite,” he says, and there’s no thought in your head or balloon in your stomach and no bloated skin to make you second guess yourself.

You follow Sam, sinking your teeth into the bread of your sandwich, and its flavor explodes over your tongue just enough to take away all the bitter, floral, fragrant taste of the daisies that are building up in your stomach, their petals choking you out, downy fluttering things inside you.

(“Hey girl, it’s me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I was coming to see if you wanted to grab a bite with me for lunch, maybe at that little Italian place you like to go to around the corner? Or maybe sushi or something? Been a while since I got to go out for lunch, so I thought I’d ask, but I guess you’re busy right now. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Enjoy your lunch.”)

—NEW BEGINNINGS—

You’ve got to call him. You have to. You have no choice anymore.

Danny is on the other side of the locked door, his fist pounding on the wood and threatening to cave it in from the repeated force. The sound is louder than it should be, really, echoing off the tile of the bathroom you’ve barricaded yourself inside. He’s shouting above the sound.

“You fucking bitch. I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you. You lied to me? What else are you lying about, huh? You fucking whore. I took you in, I gave you a home, I gave you everything. Fucking fat slut—how many other guys are you sleeping with, huh?”

None, you had answered earlier when he was questioning you in your shared bedroom, his fist tight around your soft arm and squeezing so hard it made you want to scream. None.

But that wasn’t the answer Danny was looking for. And, well, once he threw you onto the ground and stomped to the dresser, clothes strewn around the room as he furiously ripped through it until he found the shiny black firearm you didn’t know he had, you were gone.

But there was only one place to go and that was the bathroom.

Now, trapped inside, you know you have no choice. You have to call him—the man from the coffee shop you’ve been going to regularly for a few months. The man who noticed the bruises Danny always left on you after a rough night. The man who pressed and pried and tried to do anything to get you to open up to him even as you refused over and over again. The man who put his number in your phone because he wanted you to call him if you ever needed him, not because he was a hero, but because he was worried about you.

You press the number two on speed dial. The phone rings.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Steve?” Your voice is nothing but a sob. “Steve, you were right.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, but you hear the rustle of clothes and a jingle of keys on the other side beyond the static, a sound that makes you almost cry with relief or hope or maybe just stress.

“Hold on,” he tells you. “FRIDAY is pulling up your address. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Are you safe?”

“Bathroom,” you’re able to mumble out from behind the waterfall of tears rushing down your face. “He’s locked out but—but I’m scared.”

“I’m on my way. He’s not going to hurt you. I promise you.”

And then Steve hangs up, and you wish he hadn’t because now you’re left all alone with just a flimsy wooden door, painted fucking white so the blood will show up real pretty when Danny kills you, between you and your boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend if you get out of here alive.

“Four fucking years!” he shouts from outside. “I gave you four fucking years of my life, you stupid bitch. I put up with your dumb fat ass for four years and this is what you do? Is this love? Do you think this is love?”

You figure anything is love as long as it doesn’t look like this. The ring of bruises around your upper arm from Danny’s grasp is already turning black and blue, a sight that makes you flinch.

Honestly, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. All the cash you were stashing should’ve been hidden better. You knew better. A shoebox up on the top shelf of the closet? Amateur. You should’ve cut a section out of one of your prized books or something. Danny never fucking reads. He probably doesn’t know how. He would’ve never found all the money if you’d stashed it there.

“Six thousand dollars!” he roars, punching the center of the door. The wood bends slightly. “How long’ve you been fucking stealing from me, huh? Fucking bitch. Stupid fucking bitch.”

And then it happens.

Danny’s fist breaks through the first layer of the door with a curse of pain falling from his lips. Then, a laugh. He’s laughing.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He punches the door again and then his hand is through, wood splinters shattering and flying toward you, and with a scream you shield your face with your arms and duck down. You’re sitting beside the bathtub, squished against the toilet, and you scoot back as far as you can trying to wedge yourself to safety.

But there is no safety here. Danny’s bloodied fingers find the doorknob and unlock it with a click, and it’s over. It’s over. It’s fucking over.

With a kick, the door comes flying open and you’re screaming again at the top of your lungs, throat tearing itself raw. Danny’s broad frame possesses the entire room as he shoulders his way inside, his lips pulled back to show all of his teeth in a feral grin, the overhead lights catching the shine of the sleek gun he’s carrying.

You can’t even look at him. All you can do is stare at his back in the bathroom mirror hanging over the counter, your mind completely devoid of thought.

“Fuckin’ dead,” Danny says, and you don’t see him aim the gun at you. You stare in the mirror, right in the mirror and memorize the pattern of the plaid jacket he’s wearing, how the colored stripes form new colors, how the fabric all blends. It’s a pretty shirt. You bought it for him two Christmasses ago. He looks good in it.

You are going to die.

Then, suddenly, you can’t see the plaid anymore. Instead it’s a gray shirt on a much bigger body blocking out the mirror, and when you turn your head to look, Steve’s there.

Steve’s here.

He’s got Danny in a chokehold, grappling for the pistol in your boyfriend’s hand. Ex-boyfriend. Despite Steve being completely unarmed—he’s Captain America for christ’s sake, a goddamn super soldier, he doesn’t need a fucking weapon—he easily brings Danny down to his knees and onto the floor, kicking the gun away from their bodies and out of the bathroom completely.

“Fucking whore,” Danny manages to spit out, the sound strangled as Steve’s arm buckles over his neck. “You’re fucking him too, huh? I’m gonna kill you.”

“Shut up,” Steve grits through his clenched teeth, pulling Danny toward the destroyed door. “You’re done.”

They disappear from the bathroom in a tangle and thrashing of limbs. Danny curses the whole way down the stairs, struggling to break out of Steve’s grasp you presume. He’s a fighter—that’s what he always said. Dog meets dog eats dog world, he would tell you. You can’t ever trust anyone.

And, well, he certainly proved his beliefs. You had the bruises to show for it. The scars as evidence.

Sitting alone in your wrecked bathroom, still sprawled out on the tile, you stare down at your hands. The lines run deep in your palms, fingers stubby and chubby and not at all feminine. Too small to grab Danny the way he always grabbed you. Too soft with fat to deliver a good punch.

You don’t know how much time passes before a much larger hand enters your vision, slowly, like approaching a kicked mutt on the street, and when you don’t flinch, Steve lays his fingers across your palms. Apprehensively, you grab onto his hand, and he squeezes back.

Looking up, he’s crouched in front of you, the beginnings of a bruise forming on his left temple. With your free hand, you reach out and let your fingers brush over it, but Steve just smiles at you.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says, gently tugging on your hand. You hold onto him a little tighter and let him help you up off the ground, his arm immediately sliding around your waist to steady your shaky legs.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you say. “The money I saved…”

You don’t even know what happened to it. For all you know, Danny burned the cash. Or stashed it somewhere else.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Steve says in a soft voice. “I’m taking you back to the Tower. The police are dealing with Danny right now. Can you help me pack some clothes for you?”

And so you sat on the bed among your wrecked bedroom as Steve picked through the messy drawers that had been pulled from their dresser, some articles of clothing crumpled on the floor where Danny flung them in his mad search for your secret money stash. And the gun. You almost forgot about the gun.

Steve helps you pack, his face only a little pinker than normal when you’re shoving your intimates into the black duffle bag he fished out of his car, and then he’s helping you slip on your sneakers and guiding you out of your house.

You don’t say goodbye to it, though. That house. Even after four years, you don’t call it home. In a lot of ways, you’re happy to watch it disappear from Steve’s rearview mirror, hoping you’ll never be back.

“They’re going to love you there,” he says quietly in the silence of the car, both hands tight around the steering wheel. He glances over at you, then back at the road. “You’ll fit right in. You’ll be safe. Right at home.”

But you think Steve is a bit of an optimist. Homes, you think, are for people who are loved.

(“Hey honey, just me here. Look, I remembered you saying something about how you wanted those, what were they called, the fairy lights for your room? The ones that look like Christmas lights? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You’re too short to do it yourself, girl, you know that. Anyway, give me a call if you want to, or just come down to my room and get me, anytime. I’ll be waiting. Talk soon, honey.”)

—KEEPING SECRETS—

Wanda hums a tune under her breath. “I just can’t wait to get out of this place! It’s been too long. Mission after mission after bloody mission.” She sighs and starts to apply a thick coat of mascara, eyes wide as she stares in the mirror.

“Agreed,” Natasha says from somewhere behind you. The sound of her bare feet on the bathroom tile is the only warning you have before she sidles up beside you, gracefully lifting herself up onto the counter and sweeping various cosmetics aside to make room.

You’re still undressed, standing in your panties and an old t-shirt with a stretched out neck, just finishing up your eyeshadow when Nat taps a black bottle on the marble top near your fingers.

“Want me to do your eyeliner?” she asks.

A few months ago, you would have seen it as an insult—a beautiful, dangerous woman telling you in less words that your makeup looked like shit. Now you know it’s an expression of Natasha’s unending love for you. A willing act of service. A small thing she can do for you.

“Yes please.”

Natasha motions you forward, between her legs, and when she takes your face in her hand you close your eyes.

“Pretty colors,” she says, probably about your eyeshadow.

“Thanks,” you reply, and then you feel the cool wetness of liquid liner right on your lash line as she begins to paint a wing on your lid. “You always look pretty.”

“So do you.” She blows softly on your left eye. “It’s like you never need makeup, I swear. Are you even wearing foundation?”

A smile works its way onto your face. “Nope.”

From beside you, Wanda giggles.

“Slut. You’re so perfect it makes me want to scream sometimes,” Natasha says, tongue clicking her teeth as she finishes off your right eye.

All the breath seems to leave you in that moment. Like someone punched you straight in your gut, your bones like the gel shock-absorbing layer protecting your organs. Your eyes want nothing more than to shoot open, but Nat is blowing cool air over the newly formed wing and you force yourself to relax so you don’t mess everything up.

“I’m not perfect,” you tell her. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Don’t deflect.” You hear her cap the eye liner and set it down on the counter, then her palms engulf your cheeks. Slowly, you let your eyes open, blinking gently.

She’s staring at you, eyes narrowed.

“Just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” she says, simply, as if it’s just easy for her to not compare herself to anyone else. “If you’re perfect, you’re perfect. Doesn’t matter if I’m perfect, too. And that Wanda is perfect. Or that anyone is perfect.”

Natasha takes your chin in her fingers and grabs a tube of lipstick—the one she and Wanda always tell you to wear because it looks so damn good on you.

“Your beauty and your worth doesn’t come from other people.” She runs the silken rouge over your lips. “It comes from who you are, not comparisons to other people.”

And, god, you want to scream at her. You want to shout and tell her that she isn’t allowed to say that to you when she looks the way she does—slim and picturesque and every human being’s wet dream. She doesn’t get to say that you shouldn’t compare yourself, with your heavy chest and your wide hips and all your soft pockets of skin, to someone like her. To someone like Wanda. To anyone else that doesn’t need liposuction with a side of diet pills, please.

You can’t be perfect, because if you were perfect, if you were enough, you wouldn’t be dying in agony every night over someone that doesn’t look twice at your too-large stomach and your too-large thighs.

They’re just trying to make you feel better, but all it does is make you feel worse.

“Look,” you say when she’s done with your lipstick, “I get what—”

In a split second, your chest is wracked with hard coughs, lungs struggling for air. It’s choking you, your own insides, and you’re hacking and wheezing and grasping at the bathroom counter and Natasha’s hands are on your shoulders and Wanda is slapping your back in hope that it will help and someone, somewhere, is saying the word heimlich and you can taste it on your tongue like old wallpaper from the 70s, floral and disgusting and toxic and ugly.

You throw your arm over your mouth, smearing your lipstick. It doesn’t help. Natasha is looking at you, eyes wild. You’re coughing and coughing and you think you taste blood underneath the overwhelming velvet on your tongue.

They’re saying your name. Shredded petals are between your teeth.

And then you break, pushing past them to the toilet, skidding on your knees until you’re doubled over and retching. It’s all burning acid and fresh flowers. Rot and fester and earth and greenery. A pair of cool hands—Wanda’s, you think—rest upon your forehead and move your hair away from your face.

Vomit and daisies leak from your mouth until your stomach is done contracting and your insides are empty. All that’s left is your sputtering coughs that taste caustic and beautiful.

It’s getting bad.

When you finally pull away from the toilet, slumped back and wiping your mouth, the toilet is full of an explosion of crisp white and bright yellow, tinged with the faint pink of blood. Wanda is glancing back and forth between you and the unflushed toilet, horror stitched on her face.

Before Natasha approaches, a glass of tap water in hand, you lean over and flush the petals down the drain. The look you shoot Wanda is pleading, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

Everything on the inside hurts, burning like a pit of snakes in your belly, hissing and spitting venom and biting into you like they mean to kill you. Perhaps the daisies have grown fangs. Your lungs feel chewed.

Nat places the glass in your shaking hands, her fingers holding your own as if she knows you can’t do it yourself. She helps raise the glass to your soiled lips and you gulp the water down like it’ll flood the valley unfolding in you.

“Who is it?” she asks, her voice calm but her eyes uneasy. You nearly choke, a hand pressing against the middle of your chest as if you need to feel your lungs as they work to assure yourself of your own survival.

“What?” you barely eke out, throat thick and scratchy. One of Wanda’s hands strokes down your back and she doesn’t speak, only shakes her head.

“Who is it?” Natasha repeats.

You look away.

“God.” Wanda sniffles behind you. “How could we not have realized?”

“Because it doesn’t happen,” Nat says, shifting from crouching in front of you to sitting on her knees on the floor, a hand resting on your thigh. “I’ve never known a single person—until now, I guess—who had it. I thought it wasn’t real.”

“They tell it like a fairytale in Sokovia,” Wanda says, her words just as watery as her eyes. “A story you lull children to sleep with! But I should have seen it. We should have seen it.”

A new abundance of petals tickle the back of your throat.

“All that art,” Natasha hisses, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s glaring down at her lap.

“All the daisies,” Wanda cries. Her head drops against your shoulder. You feel the wetness of her tears.

“It’s okay,” you tell them, but your voice is too small. “It’s okay,” you say, louder this time, tasting the flowers like they are the blood of your bitten tongue.

“Who is it?” Natasha asks again, a begging in her voice you don’t think you’ve ever heard before.

“It’s okay,” you say again.

And with this, Nat’s face changes from one of concern to something of realization—like she’s been struck with a thought she never considered, like she’s seen the future.

“It’s him.” Her jaw is slack, staring at you even as Wanda looks at her with confusion etched on her visage. “You have to tell him.”

“No,” you say simply.

“This is bad,” Nat snaps, as if you don’t know it already. “This is getting bad. You need to tell him or you’re—you’re going to die.”

A laugh breaks through the bathroom, echoing. “How can I tell him? How could I ever tell him that I love him when the simple fucking fact that these flowers are growing—rooting—in my goddamn lungs is proof that he doesn’t love me the way that I love him?”

You lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“Sam Wilson doesn’t love me the way I love him,” you whisper.

The tips of Natasha’s fingers catch the tears you don’t feel streaking down your cheeks like the screaming of shooting stars, hot and bright and dying.

“It’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?” Your nails dig into the fat flesh of your thighs, trying to puncture skin. “To make art of your own death. To make something lovely out of something so tragic.”

You can’t swallow it back this time. A cough wracks through you, jostling your bones, and you fold yourself in half as soft white petals emerge from your esophagus and choke you. You grind them against the backs of your teeth with your tongue, trying to mash them into nonexistence, but it’s not enough. You retch another wave of daisies into your awaiting hands.

Wanda calls your name and it sounds broken.

“Death like this,” you rasp, catching your breath, “is the most beautiful way to go.”

Your finger drags over one of the downy petals, a bead of blood catching on your skin and smearing across it like a brushstroke of paint, ruining it.

“Death like this is the only way I want to go.”

(“Hey beautiful, it’s me again. I heard you were going out with the girls tonight—I hope you have fun. I just wanted you to know that if you need a ride back home, or you get into trouble and need a hero, or anything, really, I’m just a phone call away. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I’ll be up if you need anything, at least ‘till you get home. Have fun, girl.”)

—INNOCENCE—

You’re beginning to ask yourself if the mirror lies.

It doesn’t. You know that. You’ve been trying to find the lies in it for years at this point, pinching and pulling at all the places you find are thicker than the women you see on TV, the women you see floating around the Tower, the women you’ve seen on the arms of Sam Wilson. Chubby hands caress down your soft belly, poking and prodding the skin you wish you could make disappear. The mirror never lies.

But you wish it did when you stare at yourself and all you see are the bruises beneath your eyes, the hollows in your cheeks, the drained look in your gaze. The longer you stand there, the less you recognize yourself.

You aren’t hungry anymore. You never get hungry—the flowers filling up all the space in your stomach, coughed up from your lungs and swallowed back in pieces. Perfume is what your mouth tastes like now. Perfume and iron. The vomiting hasn’t stopped since the night your secret was revealed to Natasha and Wanda.

And you’ve never looked better.

That’s the part you hate. The part where when you look in the mirror and you can see the places where those daisies have shaved you thinner. It almost makes you laugh. People say you pack on the pounds when you find love. Maybe they should try having toxic flowers take root inside of them and slowly steal their lifeforce while they watch the person they love never love them back.

It’s a slow process, this death. You wonder which will kill you first—the starvation or the suffocation.

The walk down to the gala is as equally exciting as it is dreadful. You’ve never been to a Tony Stark gala before and you’re eager to dance the night away with your friends. But you’re also exhausted.

Oh well. The makeup helps you look less like a corpse and more like a dancing queen. The dress, which you’re sure someone paid far too much money for, is part of the solution. It’s all flowy and gorgeous as if you are a Greek goddess meant to be worshipped and highlights your figure while hiding all the imperfections the mirror seemed to find.

And when you finally enter the room, classical music playing from the live band and people laughing loudly and champagne twirling about the floor for people to take, the first thing you see is him.

Grin taking up his entire face, lighting up the entire ballroom, dressed beautifully in a navy suit that makes him look utterly dashing, is Sam Wilson.

He’s surrounded by people—women who are better dressed than you are—so with a shaky breath and a pain in your lungs, you quickly turn on your heel and head toward the next familiar face.

“Woah there, doll, where you hurryin’ off to?” Bucky, hair neatly pulled back and wearing a black suit, grabs you by your waist.

“Nowhere,” you blurt. “The bar. I just got here.”

He raises a thick brow at you, a silent question, but when you choose not to answer he shrugs.

“Well I can’t refuse to escort a pretty lady, can I?” With a charming smile, he holds his elbow out to you and gestures for you to grab on. You slip your hand around his arm and grasp him tightly, shooting him a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

But as the two of you start dodging through the crowd of excited party-goers, on your way to the bar in the back, Bucky stops short and gets a look on his face that you’re not quite sure you can describe as mischievous, but it’s close enough to make you frown.

“Y’know what,” he says, glancing over at you with that boyish grin, “I think we should take a spin on the dance floor instead.”

“Oh no,” you tell him, eyes wide. “I can’t dance—”

He snorts. “I’ve seen you dance around the kitchen, doll.”

“I can’t dance in front of all these people.”

“Can’t is a word for losers.” Bucky closes his hand over yours, locking you to his elbow. “Don’t wanna be a loser like Stevie, do ya? Oh Buck, I can’t stop fighting, gotta teach ‘em a lesson. Oh Buck, I can’t rinse out my cereal bowl, I gotta go for a run.”

It makes you laugh, maybe a little too loud, but it eases you just enough for Bucky to pull you into the menagerie of dancing couples, and then he’s moving your hand from his arm and onto his shoulder and clasping your other in his fingers.

“There we go.” His eyes shine like the ocean sparkles under the Tower lights.

Bucky has something magic in him, you decide, after two songs of him swinging you along the floor. He has something magic that makes everything so easy, which is something so admirable after all he’s been through. He has you laughing and smiling and spinning across the room with so little effort you forget all your worries in an instant.

“See?” Bucky dips you in his arms, making you squeal with glee, collecting the stares of the people peppered around the room. “Knew you could dance, doll.”

Panting, you rest a hand on his chest, still giggling. “Only ‘cause you’re so good.”

“Song’s over, Buck,” a new, familiar voice cuts in. When you look up, Steve is standing there, eyes crinkling with his own smile. “I can’t wait for another.”

At that, Bucky rolls his eyes with such drama it has you laughing yet again.

“See? I told you. It’s all can’t this, can’t thatwith Stevie. But fine.” Bucky guides you by the waist over to Steve, passing your hand over, and then gives you one last grin with all his teeth. “I had fun, doll. Thanks for dancin’ with me.”

“Anytime,” you tell him, and then Steve’s adjusting your grip on him. The song changes from the upbeat tune Bucky was twirling you to down to a slower classical piece.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Steve asks, his eyes roaming over your face.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Bucky and I had a lot of fun.”

Steve’s grip at your waist tightens a little. “No, I mean in general. Are you doing alright?”

There’s worry there—in the wrinkles on his brow, the blue skies of his eyes, the curve of his lips. You know he’s staring at you and seeing everything the mirror told you. All the gaunt places. The hollow, haunted look you’re parading around. The weight you’ve been steadily losing. You know he sees it.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and you wonder yet again if the mirror ever lies. You know you do.

Steve sways you gently, more carefully than Bucky had. Steve dances with you like you’re made of something fragile. You still don’t understand why. You don’t know why he ever looked at you and saw something important, someone to protect. Maybe it’s just how he was born to be.

“You can tell me anything,” he says, so seriously that your heart breaks a little.

You move your hand from his shoulder and up to cradle his cheek, smiling.

“I know, Steve. I know.”

And if he pulls you into him, crushes you against his chest, and holds you like that for the rest of the song, no one mentions it. Steve lets you rest your head on his shoulder and, not for the first time, you think this must be how it feels to have a family.

But then the lights in the ballroom brighten a little and a spark finds its way into the music, changing into something jazzy and fun, and someone slaps Steve on the shoulder.

“Alright Rogers, she’s ours now.”

There, dressed like she could kill a man with her heels alone, Natasha has her arms crossed over her black satin gown. Beside her, in a red, flowy dress, Wanda has her hands on Nat’s shoulders, giggling from all the bubbly you’re sure she’s consumed.

Steve pulls away from you with a chuckle, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright—she’s all yours, ladies.”

With that, Natasha pounces on you, and the three of you start to shimmy the night away together.

You lose count of the songs you spend dancing with them, sweaty and out of breath and having the time of your life, before you wave them off and step out onto the outside patio where hardly anyone is loitering. You pass up a couple sitting on a bench, cuddled up in the cool air of New York, and leave a man smoking a cigarette to himself.

Instead, you find a lonely bench far away enough from the gala that you can hardly hear anything but the bass strings resounding through the building. There, you sit, and turn your head up to the stars you can’t really see anymore.

“You okay, girl?”

Startled, you whirl around to face the object of your affections, standing behind you with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. He isn’t wearing his usual smile. Just staring.

And then you taste dirt. Freshly upturned soil coated in congealing blood. You cough into your hands and hear him approach, laying a warm palm on your back as you choke the daisies down and down and down, swallowing as many as you can, the pungent taste still ripe in your mouth.

“Honey,” he calls out all smooth and sharp like whiskey. “Honey, are you okay?”

You lick the blood from your lips. Sam crouches before you, gathering your cold hands in his, looking up at you with such a fucking expression that you want to kiss him so solidly he can taste the vines growing up your throat. You want his tongue to taste the soil of your suffering—the flowers of your own doom.

“I’m worried about you,” Sam says, his dark eyes searching your face for something.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, just as you’ve been telling everyone.

“You’re not looking so good these days,” he murmurs, and you recoil.

“Wow.” The hurt in your voice is so palpable it makes you cringe. “Thanks, Samuel.”

You move to get up from the bench, heart twisting, but Sam grabs your arms and cages you there.

“I didn’t mean it like that, darlin’, you know better than that.” He gives your arms—too soft too wide too fleshy too—a squeeze of reassurance. “You’re not painting much anymore either. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Sam holds your gaze until it’s too much and you have to break away.

“C’mon, girl. Are you even sleeping?” Sam shakes you a little. “Eating?”

The flowers of evil root in your chest. See, you know how this book ends. You don’t need to read the last page to find out. It’s just as Baudelaire wrote, you know: “My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.”

Your organs have been replaced by daisies. Sam Wilson won’t love you—not tonight, not tomorrow, and not in time.

So you shrug, forcing your lips to curl into what you think might be a smile.

“I can’t paint. I’ve got too many flowers to press,” you tell him. Sam’s visage morphs into confusion, and he shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t understand. He won’t understand.

You take his arms from your body, holding his hands for a split second, long enough to steal their warmth and imagine what it would be like to hold them every single day, and then you pick yourself up off the bench and give him a wave.

“See you inside, Sam.”

And you leave him there, confusion still frozen on his face, the gritty blood ripping shreds in your damaged throat as you swallow it again and again and again in an attempt not to taste it anymore.

(“Hey, uh, it’s Sam. I was just calling to, uh, y’know, remind you about the gala. You have a date yet? I didn't ask anyone. I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. Try not to kill me with your good looks tonight, you hear? Save a dance for me, baby.”)

—THE SUN AND ALL ITS STARS—

Dishware rattles into your room, signaling Nat’s arrival. By the time you gather the energy to sit up in bed, she’s already entering, a tray of food in her hands and an icy look on her face.

“Breakfast in bed,” she says monotonously.

You shift and pull your duvet up as she fits the tray over your lap. There’s not much—a sweating glass of cold water beside an amber glass of apple juice, two slices of buttered toast, and some melon she cut up.

“Thanks,” you say, voice strained and weak.

Natasha doesn’t leave, but you wish she would. She seats herself on the edge of your bed, staring you down as you sip on your water. You purse your lips in frustration, but pick up the fork and begin to poke at the fruit.

“Eat,” she says.

“I’m trying,” you grumble back. “Stop staring at me.”

Natasha throws her hands up on the air. “Well if I don’t watch you, you’ll just sit here and waste away,” she snaps. “You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, hell, you aren’t even coming out of your room anymore. You go to work, you come home, you don’t talk to any of us. Steve says—”

“Steve doesn’t know anything!” you shout, interrupting her. As soon as you do, her eyes narrow into slits and you shut your mouth, gulping. That wasn’t what you wanted to do.

Natasha takes a deep breath. “Steve says you’re still looking for a place.” It’s eerie how calm she keeps her tone. “Leaving isn’t going to stop them, you know.”

Even now, not doing anything but staring at the food in your lap, you can taste them like a funeral home, saccharinely floral, covering the smell of death.

“I can’t stay here,” you say.

“You’re dying,” Natasha stresses. “Please. Please, I am begging, krasavitsa. I’ve not begged for much in this life. But I am begging you to please, please tell him. Tell him or consider the other option.”

Two options in the scale, tipping weights. To die or to have the roots of true love carved out of your lungs, peeled away from where they wrap around your heart.

You stab your fork into the tender flesh of the melon. It gives way so easily, letting the tines puncture it. Natasha stares at you, her gaze heavy. Your fingers fumble with the fork and it falls, clattering, to the tray of dishes.

The blood is too hard to swallow anymore—it builds up in your mouth and stains your teeth red, the petals colored pink when they fall from your lips.

“Okay,” you whisper. Maybe you don’t even say it aloud.

“Okay?” Natasha asks. You nod your head, not looking at her.

“I’ll tell him.”

It takes you hours, it feels like, to gather the courage. With all the energy you have left in your bones, muscles only satiated a little by Natasha’s breakfast, you drag yourself out of bed and to your bookshelf. It’s memorized, the place where your book sits, and you pull it out with a gentle tug of your finger.

The Flowers of Evil, its pages nearly chock-full of pressed daisies that have ejected themselves from your body, eager to find the man you love and spill all your desires to him. You thumb through it, gaze flitting over all the damn flowers that have dried in this damn book, and you close your eyes in order not to cry this time.

You press the book tight to your chest, feeling the desperate beating of your heart echo through it, and you head to Sam’s room.

The walk is long and lonely—the Tower feels empty. Devoid of people. You’re a little glad because you’re sure that anyone could see the sickness painted on your body, the illness from inside you that’s staining your outsides. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, really. The flowers are too beautiful to supplant.

And now, you’re in front of his door, a fist raised to knock, a loud buzzing in your head that keeps saying no, no, no. But your heart, traitorous thing still hammering away in your chest, it just keeps saying yes, yes, yes, finally.

Sam Wilson doesn’t love you.

But do you have any other choice except to take a garden spade to your lungs and dig them out of your chest cavity, to destroy your ribcage and break through the mulch that makes up your nervous system? Is the only option left to die at the hands of Sam or to wither away until your decomposition will feed the very things that killed you off?

You shudder a breath and knock on the door. And you wait. And wait. And wait.

He doesn’t come. He isn’t there. He doesn’t love you.

The tears come suddenly—unexpectedly. They are hot and stricken and fast. They drip off your chin and careen down your neck and dampen the collar of your shirt and your hands are trembling, grasping your book too tightly, to even begin to wipe them away.

You don’t know why you’re crying. You already know this. Sam Wilson could never love you the way that you love him. Sam Wilson is perfection, you know. He possesses the strength of gods, he radiates love, he’s passionate about every fucking thing he does. He’s beautiful. He’s everything and you are nothing when standing next to him, but you love him. You love him.

Sam Wilson doesn’t fucking love you.

“Well,” you laugh to yourself, “I can either die a fool or live a life without you.”

I can either die in love or live my life not knowing what it feels like to be in love with you.

Something tickles your tongue. You reach between your lips and pluck it from your mouth, letting it sit upon the center of your palm. Blood drips down your arm like a river, violent and sooth.

The daisy covers your entire hand, white petals tinged with pink reaching toward your fingers. The center, all yellow florets seeming to seek out warmth, are so bright and full and so big—these are too big, they could choke anyone, anyone, they are choking you.

And like them—god, just like them, just like these daisies that grow from your lungs and destroy you from inside out—you are heliotropic. Everywhere you go, you’re focused on the sun, looking for the sun, stretching toward the sun.

You need the sun.

So you crumble the daisy in your hand, fist tight, blood still easing from between your fingers. You back away from his door, then turn and break away to head back to your room in silence.

You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.

(“Hey girl, it’s me. Just calling to let you know that Steve and I got called for a mission. It looks like an emergency, wheels up in ten and all that. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. To Steve, I mean. Just in case. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness.”)

—FAREWELLS—

It happens faster than you think it will. You swear you have weeks, or a month at least. You swear you have time.

Four days later, your knees buckle and slam into the wooden floor beneath you, stomach contorting and contracting, balloon finally bursting. Someone is shouting your name from the common room, something is knocked over, scrambling. You barely hear it over the sound of your own vomiting.

On your hands and knees, you stare down at the lump of flowers you couldn’t swallow back. They’re coated in a mixture of soil and blood and stomach acid, but the sweet perfume scent breaks through the rest and makes you retch again. It smells so sweet. So sickly sweet. Dead people and churches.

Did churches always smell so much like blood?

There’s a hand on your shoulder. It’s pulling your hair from your face. Someone is saying something—something—something you can’t make out over the blood rushing between your ears.

You’re dying. This is it.

You collapse upon the ground, rolling onto your side, arm thrown over your mouth as if that will stop the flowers from pouring out of your body. And when you blink, trying to see through the dizziness, it’s him again.

The god of the fucking sun, your sun, mouth moving frantically as he says things you can’t hear and the little gap in his teeth that makes you feel at home when he smiles at you and his eyes, oh, Sam Wilson has eyes that set you on fire and burn you alive and you’d be happy to die like this, you’re so happy you get to die like this, so thankful that the daisies chose you, so thankful you chose him.

You were right. Death is so beautiful like this.

“It might be too late.”

Helen Cho’s heels clack on the tile of the medbay’s room as she shoos the nurse out with a wave of her hands, shaking her head. He shoots to his feet, fingers already curled into fists, and he shoves them in the pockets of his jacket to hide them.

“Too late?” It’s impossible for him to keep his voice low. “How can it be too late? What even—What’s wrong with her?”

She frowns at Sam, folding her hands together in front of her.

“It’s… rare,” she says. “Some of us didn’t think it was real, to be frank with you.”

His brow furrows. “What is it?”

“A disease caused by unrequited love,” Helen says plainly, staring straight at him. “Typically, the patient finds themselves in what is regarded to be true love, but the feelings are not returned, so they build up. It’s theorized that the stress of that creates the problem.”

Sam swallows and it tastes like vomit. “Unrequited love?”

She ignores him, continuing, “The part that is normally so hard to believe is that flowers begin to grow inside the patient, the roots puncturing their lungs and creating masses that eventually will suffocate their host.”

It’s a bag of bricks to his stomach. A super soldier punch to the gut. A bomb blown up in his face. Sam doubles over, clutching his middle, trying to breathe again. He can’t breathe at all. The flowers. The flowers.

“It seems she was swallowing them in an attempt to save herself,” Helen explains. “It’s what kept her alive much longer than she should have been. But now, I don’t know. It may be too late to save her. If she’d just said something earlier, than the surgery might have been able to stop it, but—”

“Surgery?” Sam asks, still gasping for breath. “What surgery?”

“You can extract the roots,” she tells him, glancing at the sleeping woman in the sickbed. “It’s a difficult procedure but it would have saved her. But, from the very little research we have on it, removing the roots also removes the feelings entirely. The love that the patient has disappears. They aren’t able to ever feel anything for that person ever again.”

He falls back into the plastic chair, his limbs numb. Or, at least that’s what he wants to do. But Sam doesn’t. He steadies himself, crosses his arms over his chest, plants himself so firmly there in the hospital room that he doesn’t think an earthquake can move him, and looks at her.

She’s sleeping, but she doesn’t look at peace. Her eyes, lovely things, are sunken in and it makes him so mad. Her collarbones have shadows beneath them and he feels fury wracking his own bones. And how long has it been since he’s seen her smile?

“Do the surgery,” he demands.

“You know I can’t do that without her consent,” Helen says, sighing.

“Then I’ll wait until she wakes up and get her consent,” he seethes through a locked jaw.

Helen’s face doesn’t change. “She might not wake up.”

“She will.”

Sam doesn’t get it. He understands—in a way—but he doesn’t really get it. He knows why she wouldn’t want to get a surgery like that. But he loves—he loves just as fiercely as she does, and that’s why he understands. Why he knows.

So why did the flowers pick her? Why would they pick her and not him?

Helen glances down at her feet, says nothing, and turns to exit the room. He’s left there in the silence, with the crowing of the machine keeping her alive to punctuate all his thoughts. If there is one thing he hates in the world, it’s feeling helpless.

He lowers himself in the plastic seat, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes.

“You’ll wake up,” he says to her, but he can’t look at her.

Or maybe he’ll wake up and it’ll all be a dream.

There’s a soft rapping of knuckles on the door, and it opens slowly and quietly, and Sam has to lock his fingers around the arms of his chair to keep from jumping up and sending a right hook right at Steve’s face.

“How’s she doing?” Steve has the audacity to ask, has the audacity to look worried, has the audacity to pull up another plastic seat next to Sam.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters under his breath, spite burning his tongue.

Steve glares at him. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you, Rogers.” Now, Sam can’t help but stand, towering over the super soldier. He immediately grabs Steve’s arm and hauls him out of his chair, through the door, and out into the hallway. Steve stumbles, a hand on the wall, and Sam’s nostrils flare.

“How could you do this to her?”

“Me?” Steve sounds genuinely taken aback, but Sam doesn’t buy it. “What are you talking about? Helen told me—”

“I thought you loved her, too!”

He really did. That’s why Steve brought her to the Tower, didn’t he? That’s why they go out for lunch every other week and why Sam never gets a chance to take her out himself. Why he always makes sure to say goodbye to her before a mission, like he doesn’t want to leave her behind. He really thought Steve loved her too. If he had thought for one second that Steve didn’t love her...

“What?” Steve’s jaw slackens. “Not like that! She doesn’t—She’s not in love with me, Sam!”

He pants, unable to catch the breath that’s leaving him like a slow leak.

“Then who the hell is she in love with?”

Steve stares at him, a look that Sam can’t recognize, can’t name, in his eyes. Steve stares at him and smooths his hand down his beard, shaking his head.

“She’s in love with you,” he says, and Sam chokes.

Because all the pretty things in his world lead back to her and man, if she loved him, it would all be so perfect that he would never want to leave it. He would never want to say goodbye. He’d ask god and anyone else who would listen to grant him a deathless life so he could look at her forever, with no end in sight, because he would. He would. Sam would love her forever.

“No,” he says, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “That can’t be true.”

“It’s true,” Steve says.

“That’s impossible.” He backs up, against the wall, holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor. “It’s impossible.”

“It’s true,” Steve repeats, staring past Sam and through the window of the medbay’s room to look at her, lying so still in her bed. “I know it is.”

“Steve, I’m in love with her,” Sam confesses, an ache in his chest. “It can’t be me. I’m in love with her. I’m so fucking in love with her.”

A heavy hand clasps his shoulder, and when Sam looks up, his breathing unsteady, Steve has a look of regret smeared all over his face.

“But does she know that?”

And, for the first time in years, Sam cries.

(“It’s me. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”)

—SINCERITY—

Sam Wilson thinks she’s starlight.

When she first arrives she’s a collection of stars and their ashes, explosions and deaths, supernovas and black holes and earthbound meteorites.

What he means by that is she’s covered in bruises but she’s so beautiful, and he wants to gather her in his arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Steve introduces her, and Sam tries to bite his tongue, but all his words pour out of him anyway as she holds out a hand to him and he takes it, soft and trembling, and he knows she’s special somehow. She’s special.

“You’re the prettiest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he says, and he means it, but she ducks her head and tries to hide the little smile on her face.

Sam Wilson thinks the world of you. But even when the bruises fade, you’re still left with all the land and the water and the galaxies hidden in your eyes when he catches your gaze, and he looks at you and he swears that you’re reaching into his chest and taking his heart in your small hands and squeezing him dry. You have realms inside of you, he’s sure, all the worlds and all their wonders. But you—you look at Steve like that sometimes, and then Sam is just grateful that you even let him breathe in your general atmosphere.

He can fly, sure, but he certainly isn’t an astronaut, so this is about the closest he can get to you.

(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)

—TRUE LOVE—

The first thing you see is the ceiling, hazy and sleep-filtered, but it looks just like the ceiling in that bathroom, back in Danny’s apartment, back when you thought the pain of love was bone crushing, before you knew the pain of love was slow suffocation.

It makes you stutter back to life and that sends you into a coughing fit. You can still taste them—the daisies. They taste like the rawness of sunlight.

Hand pressed against your chest, your eyes dart around the room, trying to catch your bearings. There’s an IV in your arm, the bed railings are plastic, Sam is sitting in the corner, the lights are dimmed.

Sam Wilson is sitting in the corner.

You gasp, looking at him, and he’s staring right back at you, a familiar book in his hands.

Sam Wilson is sitting beside your bed, holding The Flowers of Evil, and the look on his face is far from happy to see you. It’s not anger. And it’s not sadness. It just… is. And Sam is never “just” anything.

Even if he thinks that sometimes, like the times when he calls you and says, “It’s just me,” as if he isn’t something special, so important you can’t live without him in your life.

Well, you can’t live with him, either.

After a solid minute, Sam looks down at the book between his dark hands, and he begins to sift through the pages. He stops sometimes, lingers on the sheets of dried daisies that have been pressed, their color leaking onto the text only slightly. But then he moves forward, searching for something. You don’t know what.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, throat sore when you speak.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

Your teeth gnash together, bite into your bottom lip, worry a sore there as he doesn’t look at you. He just keeps flipping through the book as if he didn’t just thrust a dagger straight through your heart, as if it isn’t beating so fast and hard like it’s trying to stay alive. You feel like you can’t breathe and you don’t know if it’s the flowers crawling out of your lungs and trying to get to him or if it’s the fact that he knows.

You can’t answer him.

Sam stops on a page, his finger trailing over the script, and then he begins to read.

“And yet

to wine, to opium even, I prefer

the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself;

and in the wasteland of desire

your eyes afford the wells to slake my thirst.”

“Les Fleurs du Mal,” he says, shutting the book with a thump and striking his palm with it. “Baudelaire sure had a lot to say, didn’t he?”

Your mouth is suddenly so dry. There’s a pink pitcher of water next to the bed, just like a hospital would have, and you reach weakly for it. Sam grabs it immediately, pouring you a cup, and passing it gently to you. You gulp what you can down through the straw, hardly breathing.

When you finally feel like you aren’t going to cough your lungs up into your hands again, Sam takes the cup back from you, and embarrassment is a cold shiver down your spine.

He sits back down beside you, looking straight at you. “Do you want to get the surgery?”

Your lips part to speak, but he interrupts.

“Be honest.”

Chewing your lip, you take a deep breath. “No. And I never planned on it, either.” From the corner of your eye, you see his jaw tighten.

“Why not?”

“Because what is a life without the fucking sun, Sam?” The words are spat from your mouth. “A life spent not loving you—not knowing you, not feeling you anymore—it wasn’t worth it. Because I love you, Samuel Wilson. I have loved you since the day I met you and you told me—told me I was pretty for some goddamn reason. And I’ve loved you every day since. I love everything about you and there is not a single iteration of life that I would want to live if it meant not loving you.”

This time, nothing tastes like blood. It’s all just daisies, like they’re populating your mouth, changing the way your tongue works, turning to paste in your teeth. It’s so strong that it hurts. Like you’re eating paper valentines and crying too many tears as you say goodbye to a body in a casket.

But it’s beautiful and lovely and gorgeous because you swear that, somewhere beneath it, you can taste what you think love might taste like.

Sam doesn’t speak and it hurts, but it tosses your book down on the side table and reaches into his pocket and it still hurts. He pulls out his phone. You swallow down the rising earth in your chest.

He pulls out his phone—no, it’s your phone. He turns the screen toward you and punches in your password. You furrow your brows. When did he learn your password? But it doesn’t matter, really, because he just swipes to your call log and pulls up your voicemails. And then he begins to play them.

“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Have fun, girl. Save a dance for me, baby. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”

The sobs fall from the broken seal of your lips, loud and crashing, like a waterfall. Your hand, shaking and weak, comes up to try to cover your mouth, but Sam lunges forward and catches your wrist in gentle fingers.

He’s looking at you like you’re everything—and you know, you know now that you are—to him.

“You’ve been saying that this whole time?” you ask, a laugh bubbling up from your lungs. No flowers retch up your throat.

Sam smiles, lips pulling back to reveal that gap in his front teeth.

“You haven’t been listening, baby girl. I’ve been tryin’ to tell you I love you for months.”

He rests his forehead upon yours, and as close as he is, all you can smell now is the spice of his cologne. Nothing smells floral.

“I never would have thought,” you whisper. “I was sure—so sure—that you didn’t love me. I thought because of the flowers, I thought that meant for sure that you didn’t love me. I mean, why would you? Why would you ever love someone like me?”

“Honey,” he says, so softly, “you’re starlight.”

Tears flood your cheeks and Sam cups your face in his large hands, wiping them away with gentle thumbs.

Sam Wilson is sunlight. You never considered that you could be starlight.

“Why wouldn’t I love you, darlin’? You’re so good, so gorgeous, so perfect.” He laughs and it makes you laugh too, but it comes out like a sob. Your heart feels lighter. “But you’ve never considered yourself worthy of love before, have you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

He hushes you, soothes you, smooths his palms over the planes of your face and over your hair,

“You don’t have to be sorry, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and the memory of every single time he’s kissed your forehead like this flashes through your mind, an electric current, and you wonder how you never saw it before now.

“I love you,” you say, and this time, your lungs don’t feel as though they will burst from the pressure, the roots, the vines twined around them. You don’t feel choked by petals. You don’t taste blood in the back of your mouth.

“I know,” he says, “and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my days with you convincing you that you are worthy of love, honey. Because I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you.”

When he presses his lips to yours, he doesn’t taste like flowers. Not like the daisies that wrote your death sentence. He tastes like golden pools of sunlight, warm and wanting. This is your heliotropism. You are a magnet for him, Sam Wilson, god of the fucking sun.

And maybe he’s phototropic, always drawn to you, moving toward your starlight.

(“Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call! I’m on my way home now, and guess what? I have a surprise for you. It’s a bit ironic, but I think you’ll like it. What do you think of the name Daisy for a baby girl?”)

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